Unorthodox Matchmakers
by Phoenix Soar
Summary: When Draco Malfoy wished upon the enchanted engagement rings to find him his perfect bride, the very last thing he expected was to end up with a certain Harry Potter - what a way to turn your world upside down ... Draco/fem!Harry, Post Deathly Hallows.
1. Wishing Upon A Ring

**IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ! A/N: **This picks up right after Deathly Hallows, but is not epilogue compliant. It features a **Harry that was BORN female**, but the storyline from canon history will remain the same EXCEPT a few, small points - like, Harry never dated Cho or Ginny etc.

The female Harry's name is Hariah (HAH-RAI-YAH; rhymes with Mariah), but **Harry will still be referred to as "HARRY" **for the most part. Like a nickname.

**MOST IMPORTANTLY: **The idea for the engagement rings and the basic concept of this fic was borrowed from **"Harry Potter and the Malfoy Ambition"** written by _**Goddess Blue**_. "Malfoy Ambition" is a brilliant fic that, sadly, has been discontinued. This fic is basically how I imagined the story might have progressed. **Thus, certain scenes in the first five or so chapters, _especially this first chapter_, will be inherently similar to "Malfoy Ambition"**. However, this fic deals only with the idea of the engagement rings, not any of the subplots of "Malfoy Ambition". After the first few chapters, which lay the foundation of the fic, **I will be writing my own plot** and there won't be anything in common between the plot of this fic and Malfoy Ambition (except the engagement rings).

**I have also informed Goddess Blue of this fic.** If ever she expresses anything that she has against it, I shall take action accordingly. **I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN ANYTHING OF GODDESS BLUE'S "MALFOY AMBITION" OR J.K ROWLING'S ORIGINAL WORK AS MINE.** **They belong to their rightful owners.  
**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**Also, I'd like to thank my cousin, Euko-chan, and my friend, Mihoo, for all the support they've given me for this. Thanks, guys.**

Edit 7th Feb 2011: Rewrote the Author's Note to clear up some things for readers.**  
**

**

* * *

**

**UNORTHODOX MATCHMAKERS **

**CHAPTER ONE: WISHING UPON A RING**

(PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE PROCEEDING)**  
**

'Vault 709,' announced the goblin as the carriage came to an abrupt halt. The little creature gently leaped off and respectfully held the door open for the occupants. Nodding her acknowledgement, Narcissa Malfoy gracefully descended from the little carriage, and was soon followed by her son, who stepped off as elegantly as his mother. The undignified, wild carriage rides that led to the underground vaults in Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank, always made him a tad nauseous, but Draco Malfoy maintained his cool composure and never showed it; he had a reputation to live up to, after all.

For the name of Malfoy still commanded some respect within the Wizarding World, even after the events of the 'Great War' as the battle that had led to the ultimate doom of Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard in many a decade, had come to be baptized. True, the family name had been tarnished somewhat but since the Malfoys had, halfway through the battle, stopped fighting for Voldemort's cause, they had not been thrown in Azkaban prison despite the fact that all three of them bore the Dark Mark, the cursed tattoo that marked them as servants of the Dark Lord, or rather Death Eaters as they were commonly known. This had been mostly due to the fact that Hariah 'Harry' Potter – the Girl Who Lived, the Chosen One, She-Who-Had-Saved-Us-All or whatever was the latest cheesy title that the _Daily Prophet_ had dubbed her – had stepped in and vouched for them, to the eternal shock of the Malfoys.

The Wizengamot had been even more shocked and none of them had even bothered to mask it; in fact, Draco would have found their expressions almost comical had he and his parents not been bound by chains to their stone chairs in the sinister courtroom; such circumstances do have a tendency to put a damper on amusements. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been made permanent Minister for Magic after a near unanimous vote, had finally managed to locate his vocal cords and had demanded an explanation from Ms Potter for her blatant statement that the Malfoys should not be imprisoned, especially as they were proven Death Eaters.

'Because they are the reason that I stand alive in front of you today and, by extension, why Voldemort is dead now, and thus, why the rest of the world can sleep in peace,' had been her aloof response which earned her even more incredulous looks if such a thing were possible. But, Draco had noticed, his mother did not look as taken aback as the rest; if anything, her expression was one of comprehension. This was explained when Harry Potter added, 'Or at least, Madam Malfoy is.'

She had then gone on to explain how Narcissa Malfoy had saved her life by deceiving the Dark Lord (amazing in itself as it was nearly an impossible feat) and declared that she had clearly witnessed the Malfoys _not_ fighting for Voldemort in the climax of the battle. At the moment, it had seemed to Draco that Hariah Potter was only speaking in their defence because she felt that she was indebted to Narcissa – which she was. But then again, that was not very surprising: Potter was a hard-core Gryffindor; one of those oh-so-courageous lions with a heart too noble for one's own good ... or, so Draco felt in respect to all Gryffindors in any case.

After a long drawn out debate, the Wizengamot had finally decided that though the Malfoys would not be sent to Azkaban, they would be punished for their earlier actions which were, admittedly, not very pleasant. Not even the Chosen One had been able to change that decision. Draco had been let off easier as he had been underage when he was first initiated into the Death Eaters and Narcissa, too, had a more tolerable punishment than her husband for she had not been as 'involved' in Voldemort's plans as Lucius had been.

At present, Lucius still had a few more months of 'punishment' left, but mother and son were both free. In fact, Draco had even been accepted back into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for his seventh and final year, and the ministry had not confiscated the Malfoy fortune (though any object related to the Dark Arts had been removed from their manor house). As soon as the news that the Malfoys had turned to the Light (and halfway through the Great War too!) had begun to circulate, the respect for the family, which had been noticeably diminished, had increased by a fair few notches. There were still some who mistrusted them – and with good reason, considering their shady past – but Narcissa and Draco, though cowards at heart (they were Slytherins, after all!), had stepped into public with their heads held high, if only to remove the rust from the family name. And it was this pride that the young Malfoy heir displayed in the dark underground tunnel even if the only one to witness it was the lone goblin that had accompanied them to the vast and ancient Malfoy vault.

The little goblin, whose name Draco did not care to recall, hurried with lithe strides to the large door in the tunnel wall. For so small a creature (he barely reached Narcissa's slim waist), it really was admirable the proud and important manner in which he held his posture; but then again, goblins were a proud and fierce race. He turned his onyx, pupil-less eyes on the two humans and with courteous, yet haughty, civility requested the key to the vault, which Narcissa handed over delicately. The goblin turned it smoothly in the keyhole and the door swung open soundlessly.

Narcissa nodded her thanks to the goblin that had stepped back respectfully before sweeping into the large vault. Draco hesitated for a moment; the last time he had visited this place, getting into the vault had not been so simple. There had been a dragon, old and partially blinded, but magnificent still, which had guarded these deepest vaults of the bank. There was no sign of the beast now, thanks to – surprise! surprise! – a certain Hariah Potter. She and her faithful sidekicks had broken into a Gringott's vault (his aunt Madam Lestrange's vault to be precise) to steal what Draco understood to be a Horcrux that had belonged to Voldemort, and had actually evaded capture and escaped. This adventure had already become the stuff of legend for _no one_ broke into the heavily guarded Wizarding Bank and got away with it – unless you counted Voldemort who had done the same thing through the manipulation of one of his earlier servants...

And what had made this feat of Harry Potter even more impressive was that she and her two friends had actually escaped on the dragon! Draco still had trouble believing it.

_Stupid Potter and her showing off!_

He did accept that he did owe her somewhat for his freedom; had it not been for her words of defence on their behalf (and the words of a heroine that had just saved the entire world from certain doom were extremely powerful as had been proven), the Malfoys would be rotting in Azkaban now. But still, that did not mean that his feelings towards her had changed. After all, a steady – and sometimes, violent – rivalry that had raged for nearly seven years could not be easily overlooked and thrown aside; they had been at each other's throats from Day One at Hogwarts, when she had first spurned his offer of friendship, had chosen a low-down, red-haired and freckle-faced Weasley over him...

A dark scowl marred his pointed, yet strikingly handsome features and his silvery eyes darkened a few shades at the unhappy remembrances before swiftly pushing them aside and stepping over the threshold after his mother, ignoring the goblin that had been staring at him curiously for just standing put. The vault was exactly as he remembered it: nearly overflowing with piles of coins, jewels and other various expensive trinkets and family heirlooms.

He found his mother scooping up one last handful of golden galleons into her exquisite money bag before straightening up and smiling at her son, the action highlighting her beautiful face. Her pale blue eyes were warm and affectionate as she looked at him and it nearly startled the living daylights out of the young wizard – again. At once, Draco scolded himself that he should be used to it by now, but it was still hard; for Draco had only ever seen his mother's eyes as cold, icy pools of sky blue for nearly all his life. However that had been in the past, back when she had been in the service of Voldemort. Now, with her freedom, she had allowed her true nature to come forth and had become the loving mother that Draco had never consciously realised that he had been craving all his life, but the change in Narcissa Malfoy still unnerved him at times.

'Well, I think that's enough galleons to buy all your school things,' Narcissa commented lightly, lowering her eyes to the full money bag. 'What do you think, my Dragon? Do we need more?'

'I think that is enough, Mother,' answered Draco, once he had regained his composure. In truth, the school book list had not even arrived yet, but Narcissa, who had had the day free and longed for the outdoors, had insisted that Draco accompany her to Gringotts and then Diagon Alley to buy everything else that he needed for Hogwarts.

'Very well, then, darling.'

'Shall we leave now?' asked an uncomfortable Draco; he was still not used to hearing his mother calling him loving endearments.

Narcissa bestowed another one of her stunning smiles upon her son. 'No, Dragon; there is one thing left to do here, something of great importance and it should be taken care of soon.'

'Oh? What is it?'

'Here, come with me, love.'

She led him to the very back of the cavernous vault where a small, slender, yet elegant pedestal stood that rose to a height of approximately four feet. It had intricate designs carved on its sides and it stood placed well away from the rest of the Malfoy valuables. On its flat, circular surface rested a plush, velvet cushion that was the colour of blood and nestled in the very centre of it were two rings that lay side by side; the silver of both contrasted starkly with the crimson background.

Draco's breath caught in his chest as he stared at the two rings. He did not need any explanation from his mother to understand what was going on.

'Mother, I ...' he croaked weakly, not sure how to express the contradicting feelings that had begun to rage a battle as ferocious as that of the Great War within the confinements of his mind. He tried to speak yet again but his mother held up a delicate hand and he snapped his mouth shut, though the turmoil in his mind never lessened.

'Dragon,' his mother's voice was soft and her tone was soothing, 'tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday; you know what that means ... and you have always known that this day would come.'

'I did,' nodded Draco, his face troubled and his eyes betraying the conflict within. 'But, Mother, I ...'

'Draco, understand this: this is entirely your own choice. Your father and I have always agreed that we would not choose for you, or force you to decide as we wished. This agreement was strengthened after the fall of the Dark Lord when our lives, once again, belonged to us. You are no one's slave, my Dragon, your life is yours.'

'I understand, Mother,' said Draco softly, 'but, please try to understand _me_; I am not ready to marry.'

For the two rings that lay on the cushion were the ancient Malfoy engagement rings, the most valuable family heirlooms of the Malfoys. Every Malfoy couple in history had had their own special wedding bands, but the engagement rings had been passed down from generation to generation; from the Middle Ages, in fact, ever since they had first been forged especially for the Malfoy family by the master goldsmith of the era. The rings had first been worn by the late Abraxas Malfoy and his wife, the late Genevieve Goldheart. They were the couple that had started the tradition of passing the rings down the Malfoy line.

It was traditional that the Malfoy heir chose his bride by his eighteenth birthday. Draco's parents had worn those very rings during their engagement, as had his paternal grandparents, great grandparents and so on. And now, it was his turn. The only problem was that he was not ready to commit to a marriage yet. There was much that he wanted to accomplish in life before settling down. Couple that with the fact that he had not even met a woman he liked yet!

No, he was not ready for marriage; not at all.

His mother, on the other hand, did not appear to agree. Surprising her son immensely, she threw back her blonde head and laughed merrily, the sound reverberating through the vault like the sweet tinkle of chimes.

'Oh, Dragon,' she exclaimed cheerfully once she had calmed down, 'an engagement is not the same thing as marriage! You do not have to marry immediately. You can prolong the engagement for as long as you and your bride-to-be see fit. Though, of course, it is preferable that the wedding not be put off for far too long.

'And you know that it is traditional for the heirs to the family fortune to choose their spouses by their eighteenth. It is a tradition that has been upheld for centuries, love, and it is your father's and my wish that you follow it. Your father would have wanted to be here with you today, but seeing as he is still serving his sentence ...'

'Mother, I know about the tradition, but,' a hint of desperation had crept into Draco's voice by then, 'there isn't a girl I like, much less want to marry! How am I supposed to choose a fiancée by tomorrow?'

Narcissa scrutinised her son carefully, all traces of humour gone and replaced with thoughtful contemplation. After several seconds of this treatment, Draco could not help but squirm slightly, though he did not lower his silvery eyes from his mother's azure ones.

Finally, his mother spoke, 'Lucius has not explained this to you, has he? But then again, what with the war and the Dark Lord and his demands, I suppose that it is not surprising ... Well, Draco, there are a lot of things you need to know about those rings and the first thing you should understand about them is that they are not the ordinary engagement bands that you are, doubtless, imagining them to be; they are magical, Draco.'

Draco looked at his mother with confusion and mild surprise. His father had explained the history of the rings and the tradition to him long years ago, but this was something that he had not been informed of before. _They're magical?_

'You see, Dragon,' his mother explained gently, 'it is not necessary that you meet a girl before being engaged. These rings, at the time they were forged, were enchanted to help find the spouse-to-be of every Malfoy heir or heiress, based on their wishes.'

If anything, her simple explanation only served to further confuse her already confused son.

'What do you mean, Mother? I'm afraid I don't understand.'

There was a pause as Narcissa, once again, studied her son almost critically, head tilted slightly to one side.

'Do you want to get married, Draco?'

'At some point in my life, yes; but not _now_.'

'That is beside the point. Now, tell me, do you have an idea of the kind of wife that you desire?'

Draco flushed slightly, looking a little embarrassed. 'I suppose so.'

Narcissa smiled. 'Well, then, all you have to do, Dragon, is tell the rings exactly what kind of a woman you want as your spouse. Make as many wishes as you want, provided that you ask for the kind of girl that you truly desire, and the ring intended for your fiancée will find her for you. After you make your wishes, that ring will disappear from the vault and appear on the ring finger of the girl that matches your description within the next twenty four hours. It is a very simple procedure.'

'I see,' murmured Draco thoughtfully, now truly intrigued. It was not a revolting idea; he would not mind marrying a girl he had never met before, provided that she proved to be the wife that he longed for. And if he were to believe his mother's words – which he did, for she was a woman of honour – that the engagement could be prolonged indefinitely, then he would have enough time to get to know the girl before officially committing to the relationship. _Hmm, this could really work._

However, right then, his musings were brought to a rude halt when a sudden thought struck him.

'But, Mother, how on God green's earth am I supposed to _find_ her when I do not even know who it is?'

'Do not worry, darling. You need not seek her out.'

'No? But then, how ...?'

'Well, the girl will have to come forth, darling, and reveal herself to you. The ring cannot be removed by any means whatsoever, unless you, her fiancé, remove it from her finger; thus, she will be forced to come out anyway. And you can spend the rest of your engagement getting to know one another before marrying.'

'I see. Well, it doesn't sound too bad when you put it like that ... but, wait!' he exclaimed, another question popping into his already information-overloaded mind. 'What if the ring makes a mistake? What if it chooses a girl that I despise?'

His mother smiled at him again. 'The ring cannot make a mistake, Dragon. It never has. The engagement rings have found perfect brides for all the Malfoy heirs, ever since the time of Abraxas Malfoy and Genevieve Goldheart-Malfoy, as I'm sure your father has already told you. It will find you a girl that matches your heart's true desires; one who will be an immaculate wife; one who will bear your children; one who will fulfil you in every way. The ring is never wrong, my Dragon, rest assured.'

There was a silence as Draco pondered his mother's words. He was still unconvinced about how foolproof the rings were. His scepticism must have shown on his face for his mother suddenly said, her voice as soft and comforting as the sound of waves lapping against a smooth shoreline, 'Are your father and I not proof enough?'

Draco raised his eyes to meet those of his mother's and his lips curved up slightly. It was true; Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black-Malfoy truly were a couple that left nothing to be desired. This had been apparent even when they had been slaves of Voldemort; especially during the dark and dangerous period when their thoughts had begun to oppose the opinions of him and they had almost lost all hope of freedom and survival. They had comforted each other, with and without words, drawing strength from their love and sticking together to the end.

His smile broadened. His mother was right: the rings were absolute. That they had brought Narcissa Black to Lucius Malfoy was the living proof.

'Very well, then, Mother; I shall do it.'

Narcissa nodded at him, her happiness evident in her smile and eyes. She pulled out her wand and waved it gracefully at the stone pedestal, murmuring a few indistinct words under her breath and Draco understood that she had probably removed the powerful protection charms and wards cast over the rings. Narcissa put her wand away and delicately picked up the two rings which she handed to her son.

Draco accepted them and held them up to his eyes for inspection. They were not made from silver as he had initially believed, but from pure white gold that gleamed brilliantly in the dim light that shone in the vault from an unseen source. One was slightly larger than the other and was obviously meant for masculine fingers, and while the other was slimmer, the design was identical. The white gold bands were inlaid with the tiniest of sparkling diamonds that flowed along the entire outer surfaces in similar elegant patterns. The outer edges were plated with light gold and set into the centre of each ring was a beautiful diamond gem, cut with precision into a regular hexagonal shape. The gems seemed transparent and white simultaneously and their dazzling sparkles seemed to hold seductive allures.

The design of the engagement rings was hardly extravagant, yet it was their simplicity that made them all the more beautiful. They were breathtaking.

'Dragon,' His mother's voice jolted him back to reality. 'Are you ready, my love?'

Draco gazed at the rings for a few more seconds before nodding, his jaw set in mute determination.

'Good. Now, put on your ring.'

Without question, Draco slipped on the larger ring onto the ring finger of his left hand. It magically shrank in size to fit the slender digit. He had to admit to himself, it looked quite good on him!

'Now,' Narcissa said seriously, 'describe the girl of your choice to the other ring. Keep your wishes to the point and precise, and make sure that they are extremely clear. Most importantly, speak from your heart, not your mind. Wish for a girl that would truly make you happy, my Dragon, not for one that would only be beneficial for a material purpose. You know what kind of woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. Wish for her, Dragon, for yourself as well as for her.

'When you are finished, the ring will disappear, and you cannot remove your own ring until you have met your fiancée. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Mother.'

She nodded once and began to walk away. Draco stared at her, a little confused. She caught his gaze and explained, 'I shall wait by the vault doors, Draco. This is a personal matter and I would not want to intrude on your privacy.'

'No, stay,' Draco said quickly. Narcissa raised her eyebrows at him. 'I mean, I do not mind you hearing my wishes. Really,' he added when she looked unconvinced. 'After all, I'd want your blessing and approval for my choice in a bride.'

'Oh, darling,' she smiled affectionately at her son, 'you know that your father and I would approve, no matter who it is! We trust your judgement.' She looked at him sincerely.

'But, all the same, I'd rather you stayed, Mother.'

After a moment of consideration, Narcissa nodded and stepped back up to the pedestal. Draco heaved an inward sigh of relief; he would never admit it, but he was rather apprehensive about asking a ring to find him his bride-to-be. He had never done such a thing before and his mother's presence was a comfort; she gave him confidence.

Narcissa nodded at him encouragingly and Draco, closing his fingers over the 'feminine' ring, began to speak albeit a little awkwardly for he felt rather foolish talking to a ring of all things.

'I wish ...' he trailed off, a little embarrassed at expressing his desires, – desires which he would have regarded as weaknesses only a year or so ago – but gathering his courage, he ploughed on, 'I wish for a girl who'd understand me and vice versa, one who would love me for myself and not for my wealth or status. I want a girl who has not forgotten her morals; one with whom I can talk to about nothing and everything; one who will never bore me; a girl who would always be there for me as I would be there for her. I want a wife with whom I can spend all my days in bliss, with whom I can have a family; with whom I can grow old ...' He paused slightly, recalling his mother's earlier words and proceeded to repeat them, 'I want a girl who fulfils me, completes me; a girl I know, preferably and ... well ... I just want a wife that will make me the happiest man alive. Please find such a one for me.'

When he finished, he opened his fingers and looked down at the ring that was nestled in his palm. For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then, slowly, the Malfoy engagement ring began to fade. The solid white gold became transparent, and before he knew it, there was nothing in his hand at all. The ring had disappeared, just as his mother had said; gone to find him his perfect wife.

As for Narcissa, her eyes were fixed not on his empty palm, but on his face. The expression on her face was a mixture of disbelief, amazement and pride. Her son had truly grown up, she could see that now. A couple of years ago, he would not have uttered such words. His wish would have been to have a wife that was beautiful, socially powerful, and wealthy and from an upper class background; the list would have also included 'pure-blooded'. In fact, she had been half afraid that he would truly ask for such a woman even now. But no, he had changed. He had matured and grown wise. He no longer had a mania for pure-bloods and money. No, instead, he had, perhaps for the first time in his life, truly allowed his heart to speak for him.

Draco averted his eyes from his mother for as long as he could. He was embarrassed that he had spoken such private yearnings out loud; he had not meant to sound so romantic, like a love struck schoolgirl. But once started, it had been difficult to stop. Nonetheless, he realised that he did not regret it. For once, he had done the right thing.

'Dragon ...'

With the utmost reluctance, Draco turned to face his mother, not knowing how she would react to the sappy speech he had just made. To his surprise, he found Narcissa positively beaming at him with unshed tears glittering in her blue eyes.

'Oh, Dragon, I'm proud of you; you will have a fine wife, one worthy of your love.'

Surprised, but happy at her positive reaction, Draco smiled at his mother, silvery eyes bright. She returned the gesture before turning to leave, beckoning him to follow her.

They were in the carriage, hurtling back up towards the surface, when Draco, who had been examining his engagement ring – he had given it a few experimental tugs and, just as Narcissa had told him, had been unable to pull it off –, realised something and voiced it.

'Mother, it just occurred to me – the girl, what if she does not know that it is the Malfoy engagement ring? How would she know how to find us? In fact, how would she even know what is going on and why there is an engagement ring on her finger that had appeared out of nowhere?'

'Easy, love, easy; do not fret. We just simply have to advertise it.'

'What? What does that mean?'

'You see, Dragon, our engagement rings are not the only ones that are enchanted. Other old wizarding families have similar rings. It is rare, but not unheard of. A lot of wizards in our society are aware of how such rings work. So, what we need to do is let the news spread that you have wished upon the rings for a wife and are awaiting your new fiancée to make herself known to you. That way, your future bride will know what the ring on her finger is and what action to take.'

'Spread the news?' repeated Draco, horror beginning to register on his face. 'You mean, through media? Through the _Daily Prophet_?'

'Yes, love, and we need to send in a picture of the ring, too, so that your fiancée will recognise it for what it is. Whatever is the matter, Draco?' she added concernedly as her son dropped his head into his hands and groaned in a very un-Malfoy-like manner.

'Mother, I could do perfectly well without any more publicity.'

'I understand, Dragon,' Narcissa responded, sympathy reflected in her voice. The Malfoys had had more than their fair share of media and publicity during the first few months right after the Great War; their trials, their conversion to the Light, their sentences, everything had been media-covered and much gossiped about amongst the British wizarding society. She could wholly comprehend why her son did not want any more news of himself printed in the _Prophet_, especially when related to such a personal matter. The gossip that would spread like wildfire about the rings and his engagement to an unknown girl would make anyone's worst nightmares appear tame.

'Do not worry, love, everything will be alright. The media phase will be extremely tiresome, yes, but it will be short-lived and when you find your bride-to-be, you will realise that all that pain and trouble was worth it in the end. Everything will be alright, Dragon, everything will be alright.'

Draco merely nodded, glancing out of the carriage windows at the blur of the underground tunnels. _Yes, everything will be alright_. When he finally found his mystery bride who would be everything that he had ever wanted – or, rather had been wanting very recently after his change of heart and mind – everything would be alright.

The thought brought just a hint of a smile to his face which did not leave even when they finally left the snowy white building of Gringotts and entered Diagon Alley to buy his school robes and other knick knacks.

_Yes, all will turn out fine soon._

Pity that young Draco Malfoy did not know that there was a long way to go before he got his happy-ever-after.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Though the third to be posted, this is the first fanfic I've ever started to write and I hope I didn't screw up big time. Reviews and constructive criticism will be very appreciated.  
**

** By the way, before you ask about Narcissa's little nickname for Draco - 'Draco' is a Latin word that literally means "Dragon" and I thought it was an appropriate pet name. Besides, the same thing's been done in a lot of other Draco/Harry fics, so it's a bit of a cliche, anyway. **

**And as to why Draco's going back to Hogwarts when he's nearly 18; well, I figured that since the Death Eaters had taken over the school the previous year and taught the students the Dark Arts, the teachers would bring back the former seventh years for a REAL education once Hogwarts is reopened. **

**Also, if you're wondering why I pulled a gender-bender on Harry - then just blame my overall weirdness, people! X3 I just thought it would be fun to do, and hell yes, I've had way too much fun writing this thing because girl!Harry is quite a challenge. But I love this fic to bits and I'm determined to finish it.**

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it. So, how about that review? ^_^**

**ON THE WAY - _CHAPTER TWO: Life's Back to Normal - NOT_ (Oh, yeah, Harry's up next XD)**


	2. Life is Back to Normal NOT

**A/N: Thank you so much to the people who reviewed, and put my fic on their favs and/or alerts. Since femHarry is not very popular, I never expected such a response to this one; you've given me so much inspiration and I love you all so much! ::hugs::**

**By the way, in response to an anonymous review by SHE: yes, I am very aware that the first chapter was very alike to that of "Malfoy Ambition", but from this chapter onwards, things will be different. It might take a few more chapters before the fic entirely deviates away from the plot line of "Malfoy Ambition" (except the bit about the rings), but if the reviewer had bothered to read my previous Author's Note, it would be obvious that I'm not trying to steal anything from Goddess Blue since I gave her full credit. So, I'm saying it again though I won't repeat it in future chappies: absolutely ANYTHING that looks similar to "Malfoy Ambition" belongs to Goddess Blue and is NOT MINE.**

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me; it's really a very simple concept to grasp, people.  
**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER TWO: LIFE IS BACK TO NORMAL – NOT**

Sometimes, Hariah Potter still expected to wake up to the shrill sound of Petunia Dursley's voice in her small bedroom at No. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey. For the first few weeks, it had come as a shock to wake up in a strange bedroom which she would eventually recognise as the one that had once belonged to her godfather, Sirius Black, and realise that she was at No. 12 Grimmauld Place; that she was _home_; that she was _free._

This realisation came as a great relief to her this morning for she was, once again, awakened by a vivid nightmare, the likes of which that had haunted her in sleep ever since the Great War. Trying to calm her erratic breathing, Harry slowly sat up in bed, a hand unconsciously coming up to rub the lightening bolt scar on her forehead. The little souvenir of the night when Lord Voldemort had made a failed attempt on her life did not hurt as it was wont to do after nightmares that involved or was connected to the Dark Lord; it had not hurt ever since that fateful day in the Great Hall at Hogwarts when Voldemort had met his downfall. But the nightmares – always filled with the faces of all the innocent people that had died fighting the Dark for her, beside her and with her – always brought out the apprehensive feelings that Voldemort had evoked in her heart; and many a time, she imagined that she could feel her scar tingling.

Blinking back the involuntary tears that were prickling at the corners of her eyes, Harry forced down the guilt that threatened to choke her. _They did not die in vain_, she told herself firmly for the umpteenth time. _I killed Voldemort. I brought peace back to the wizarding world ... they did not die for nothing._ They were words that she had uttered to herself in the darkness for many a night. Harry knew that she was not responsible for the lives that Voldemort had taken. Time, mistakes and the war had taught her wisdom; her thinking had matured. She knew she was not to blame, but acceptance of that fact she still had not grasped; for the recollections of her parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Cedric and countless others, and why and how they had died always brought out the guilt that she fruitlessly struggled to repress.

'Survivor's guilt' her late headmaster would have called it.

Blocking out the haunting images from her mind, Harry got out of bed and prepared to greet the day. After a quick shower, she stood in front of the full-length mirror, pulling on her clothes and truly examining her mirror-image for the first time in many weeks. She had grown, Harry realised, over the past few months; she now stood at a height that could almost be considered "tall", whereas she had been stuck a five footer for most of her years at Hogwarts. Her skinny form had filled out and her jet-black hair, though still not well-behaved, was noticeably tamer as she had allowed it to grow over the years, and now fell around her shoulders, weighed down by its long length. The never changing feature was her eyes; they remained as piercingly green as they had ever been.

After combing the knots out of her hair, she left Sirius' bedroom and headed to the kitchen from where the delicious smell of breakfast was wafting out. As she wandered the corridors, she found herself admiring her handiwork.

No. 12 Grimmauld Place looked like nothing to what it used to be. In spite of what she had said to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, she had found a fair few ways in which she could put the Elder Wand to good use before she returned it to Dumbledore's tomb. The corridors and the rooms of the house were no longer dark and gloomy, but were bright and airy, thanks to a complete paint job on Harry's part. With the help of the Wand of Destiny, she had removed all signs of Slytherin-worship from the house, from the snake-headed doorknobs to the serpentine chandeliers, transfiguring them to look as normal and neutral as possible. Furthermore, she had managed to take down all the portraits of the Blacks, including that of Sirius' mother (a Permanent Sticking Charm was no match for the lethal Deathstick) and the Black Family Tapestry. These, however, she had not discarded because she knew that Kreacher, the house elf that she had inherited from her godfather, would be heart broken to put it as mildly as possible. Instead, she had given the elf a room of his own – at which he had thrown himself at her feet and sobbed his gratitude for well over an hour – and given him permission to hang the portraits and tapestry inside if he wished. She did not need a second guess to know if the deed was done.

All in all, the interior decor of the large house was definitely a lot easier on the eyes and more comforting. She now actually felt at home here, almost as much as she had at Hogwarts ... almost.

Kreacher was busy frying sausages when she entered the kitchen. He greeted her cheerfully and assured her that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. Smiling, Harry sat down at the table, regarding her house-elf with bright eyes. Their attitudes to each other had made a complete 180 degree turn. Whereas they had first loathed each other with a passion, their sentiments were the opposite at present. And she was glad; because as Kreacher had finally warmed up to her and vice versa, he had become a fine companion to have.

'Will you be coming back for lunch, Mistress Hariah?' asked Kreacher in his bull frog voice as he placed a glass of juice in front of her. 'Mistress mentioned yesterday that she is going out today.'

'So, I did,' Harry murmured. 'I want to visit Mrs Tonks. There is a lot we have to talk about and I want to see Teddy ... so I don't think I can make it to lunch, Kreacher. Sorry.'

'Will you be returning for dinner, Mistress?'

'I think so, yes.'

'Then Kreacher will prepare stew and the treacle tart to which Mistress is so partial.'

Harry grinned at him. 'Thanks, Kreacher, I appreciate it.'

'And, Mistress ...?'

'Yeah?'

'If – if Mistress does not mind, will Mistress please pass Kreacher's regards to Miss Dromeda? Miss Dromeda was always very kind to Kreacher.'

Harry surveyed him carefully through her round glasses, recalling that Andromeda Tonks was Sirius' cousin and must have once been a mistress of Kreacher. She smiled at the house-elf gently. ''Course I will.'

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Harry stood in front of the door of Andromeda Tonks' house, ringing the bell. The last time she had seen her was at the multi funeral of Andromeda's husband, Ted, her daughter, Nymphadora and her son-in-law, Remus Lupin. All of them had been killed by Voldemort's infamous Death Eaters.

Overcome with guilt, Harry had apologised to Andromeda that day after the burial, though she had felt that her words sounded hollow and meaningless. But, unknown to her, her eyes had shown her sincerity and her guilt and Andromeda had seen it. She had pulled Harry into an embrace and the two of them had remained that way for a long time, neither exchanging a word, letting their tears speak for them. A bond had been formed through their silence, a connection that had no name and they had both sensed it, but the only acknowledgement given to it was Andromeda's invitation for Harry to visit her house at any time and Harry's grateful acceptance of it.

However, what with the aftermath of the Great War and the many funerals and whatnot, Harry had had no chance of doing so until today. Though she knew that Andromeda did not blame her, she could not help but feel slightly nervous at the prospect of facing the older woman; and somewhere in the back of her mind, there was also the excitement of seeing her godson for the first time.

The door opened and Harry and Andromeda faced each other, both of them smiling rather awkwardly at the other. Appearance-wise, Andromeda was almost an exact replica of Bellatrix Lestrange, her sister and murderer of Sirius, but her eyes were kind and her smile friendly, unlike her now deceased sibling. And though Harry had not known the older woman for long, she found that she had taken a liking to Andromeda; perhaps that was because she was the closest link Harry had to Sirius.

'Hariah, please come in.' Andromeda held the door wide open in invitation.

Smiling shyly, Harry stepped inside. 'Thank you, Mrs Tonks.'

Andromeda chuckled as she shut the door and gestured for Harry to follow her down the hallway into the sitting room. 'There's no call to be so formal, Hariah. Just call me Andromeda.'

When she entered the cosy room, Harry caught her first sight of her godson. Teddy Remus Lupin, son of Remus and Nymphadora, was a metamorphmagus just like his mother; his hair was currently the colour of a sunset shot with pink, and his eyes were a disarming violet. Nevertheless, the young infant was adorable and cooed at her from his place on the floor where he had been playing with some stuffed toys. With a genuine smile of happiness Harry scooped up the boy into her arms, after glancing at Andromeda for permission who nodded at her.

Teddy seemed to take an immediate liking to Harry much to her pleasure, and she spent the entire morning simultaneously playing with her godson and talking to Andromeda. The topics varied from the sombre death of all the innocents, including Andromeda's entire nuclear family, and the more bittersweet celebrations that were still in full swing throughout the wizarding society, mourning the loss of loved ones and celebrating the end of an era filled with terror and the new beginning that had followed. The more they talked, the more Harry found herself liking Andromeda and she could tell that the other woman was feeling the same.

Harry stayed for lunch on Andromeda's insistence; afterwards, when little Teddy had been put to sleep, the two women retired to the sitting room again. Accepting a cup of coffee from Mrs Tonks, Hariah decided to address one of the major reasons for her visit to the Tonks' household. She had noticed that though Andromeda had seemed glad that Teddy was getting along with her godmother so well, there had been wariness apparent in her eyes and Harry thought she knew why that was.

'Andromeda,' she said quietly.

'Hmm?'

'Did – did Remus and Tonks tell you that ... that they made me godmother to Teddy?'

Andromeda tensed slightly. 'Yes, they did,' she answered, with a slight edge to her voice.

Harry looked at her silently for a few minutes, wondering how she could verbally phrase what she wanted to say. The widow met her gaze squarely, and though there was no hostility in her stare, Harry could detect a slight aloofness in her.

'Well ... I ... I don't want to take him,' Harry said abruptly.

Andromeda blinked; that was clearly not what she had been anticipating to hear.

'I don't want to take Teddy away from you,' Harry continued in a gentler tone. 'I may be his godmother, but you, as his grandmother, have more right to him than I could ever hope to have. Also, you have lost your entire family because of me –'

'Hariah, you know perfectly well that I don't blame you –'

'Please, let me finish. You have lost your husband, your daughter and even your son-in-law because of me. I know that you don't blame me,' she added when Andromeda opened her mouth to interrupt again, 'but I feel guilty all the same; they died fighting Voldemort's supporters and they did it for me, to give me time to destroy him once and for all, but that is beside the point. The point is that, I will not have you loose another family member because of me again. I will not take your grandson from you, Andromeda ... and I know that you will take better care of him than I can.'

There was a long silence during which Andromeda contemplated her deceased cousin's goddaughter with tear-filled eyes; all the wariness, tension and coolness melted from her. With a barely repressed sob, she leaned forward on the sofa and hugged Harry briefly.

'Hariah Potter, you have been gifted with a heart of pure gold,' she whispered into her ear before pulling away. 'I must admit that I was afraid that you would ask me to hand Teddy over to your care. Not that I do not have faith in you, my dear, but I was so afraid that I would be alone again. My grandson is all I have left. Thank you, Hariah, thank you so much for understanding!'

Harry merely smiled sincerely in reply.

'But I will not be here forever; when I am gone, you will watch over him, won't you?'

'Of course; you should not even have to ask me that!'

They both smiled at each other.

'So,' said Andromeda, settling back into the sofa comfortably, 'what is next for you?'

'Hogwarts,' answered Harry simply. 'I still have my final year to complete as I dropped out of school last year to ... well ...'

The widow nodded to show that she understood. 'And have you been accepted?'

'Oh, yes; I spoke with Headmistress McGonagall recently and she has accepted me and a couple of my other friends who also dropped out last year.'

'And what field are you planning to pursue after graduation?'

The conversation extended until late afternoon when Harry finally decided that it was high time she left for home. Andromeda accompanied her to the door where she invited Harry to spend the Christmas holidays with her and her grandson.

'I'd love to! Oh, and by the way, Kreacher sends you his regards.'

'Kreacher?' Andromeda looked slightly confused before comprehension dawned on her face and she threw back her head and laughed. 'Of course, our old house-elf! Well, that was sweet of him. Please give him my regards as well.'

'Alright. Good bye, Andromeda.'

'Until we meet again, then, Hariah.'

With a nod, Harry Disapparated.

* * *

Truly, one had to admire Harry Potter's self control; it had been fifteen long minutes of utter mortification and she still had not run to the wall to bang her head repeatedly against it, all the while lamenting about how unfair life was to her.

She was, however, not sure how long she had before she finally snapped.

Currently, she was standing on a low stool in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions while Madam Malkin herself measured her up for her new school robes. Harry dearly wished that she had not entered the shop because from the moment she had stepped foot inside, Madam Malkin had begun a never-ending tirade of praises and a heroine-worshipping speech that had brought a blush the colour of the Weasley family's trademark hair to her cheeks. The blush still had yet to fade.

Wincing, Harry tried to tune out the voice of the older witch as her words of approval and compliments about Harry's victory over Voldemort became more exaggerated while she continued to pin up Harry's new robes, but it was near impossible; she had an irritatingly shrill voice that seemed to drill right through Harry's ears.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come shopping today_, thought Harry glumly; she was deeply regretting her decision to make a visit to Diagon Alley before heading to Grimmauld Place. But really, could you blame her? It was such a beautiful day with the warm sun that blazed cheerfully in the late afternoon sky that was as deeply blue as a star sapphire. Going shopping had been merely an excuse to stay outside just a little while longer after her visit to Andromeda.

In any case, it was probably a good thing that she had come a few weeks earlier than she normally would have. As the booklists had not arrived from Hogwarts yet (she had decided to take full advantage of Flourish and Blott's new and improved owl-order service when the list finally did arrive), the Alley was less crowded and Harry could buy all the other materials she needed for school with blissful peace. Not to mention the fact that the only other person present in the robes shop was an assistant, who stared at Harry with worshipful adoration (and had asked for her autograph), as opposed to an entire mob to hear and witness her humiliation. Yes, this was infinitely better.

Or so she thought until the little bell that hung over the door rang, announcing the arrival of another customer, and her emerald green eyes were met with gleaming mercury ones.

_Oh hell, no._

Madam Malkin did a double take upon seeing the young Malfoy heir as did her assistant, whose mouth actually dropped open a little before she regained her senses and hurried forward to take care of the new customer. Obviously, the both of them had been keeping up with all the juicy news about the ex-Death Eater family in the _Daily Prophet_ and could not believe that one of the objects of their avid interest was actually in their little shop. This behaviour reminded Harry very strongly of her nosy Aunt Petunia.

'Welcome back to my humble shop, Master Malfoy,' Madam Malkin gushed in a rather girlish voice at which Harry rolled her eyes. 'Here for your new Hogwarts robes, I presume?'

'Yes,' Malfoy answered in a voice that was almost ... civil? Harry stared at him, a little surprised. She had been expecting his usual lazy drawl at the very least, or a sneer. But his face was completely neutral and his eyes, while aloof, held no contempt as the petite assistant had him stand on a stool a few feet away from Harry. _Maybe war has changed him for the better, _she mused.

She remembered the time when she, Ron and Hermione, along with a couple other friends had been captured and hauled off to Malfoy Manor. A stinging hex had disguised Harry but she was certain that Draco had surely known that it was her; yet, he had not directly replied in the affirmative when the other Death Eaters had ordered him to confirm whether it was really the Chosen One – almost as if he had had no desire to partake in anything that was related to Voldemort. In some small way, he had spared her life when he could have handed her to Voldemort on a golden platter and received handsome rewards for it in return.

_Maybe he really isn't the sadistic fool he used to be before._

Harry was shaken out of her musings when Madam Malkin turned back to her and began pinning up her robes again, the praise-loaded speech once more falling effortlessly from her lips. The blush, that had subsided somewhat, returned in full force to Harry's face and she ground her teeth. A changed man or not, she would rather that Malfoy not bear witness to her abashment.

Her face grew hotter when Madam Malkin's words began to go along the lines of 'Oh, Ms Potter, I swear that your powers were and still are enough to rival that of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Grindelwald combined!' Harry ground her teeth again; surely they must be half grinded by now! She chanced a glance at Malfoy, wondering how he was taking this entertaining spectacle and whether his new maturity meant that he did not give a damn about the scene unfolding in front of his eyes; she was infuriated to see him staring right at her, an amused sparkle dancing in his eyes and an ever-so-indistinct hint of the patented Malfoy smirk curling his lips.

So, he had not changed when it came to his sardonic attitude towards her! He still gloried in her humiliation.

_That two-faced son of a deformed Blast-Ended Screwt/Manticore crossbreed!_ (Obviously, Ron's knack for coming out with unexpectedly creative curses had rubbed off on her too much.)

What Harry failed to realise was that her own maturity level had not increased by much when it came to being taunted by Draco Malfoy, no matter how indirectly it was done.

_Conversion to the Light or not, he's still a conceited, sadistic twit full of decaying dragon dung!_

She glared at him witheringly, which did not have the desired effect on that accursed smirk of his, and turned away fuming. Honestly, the only reason he was walking free even now was because she had vouched for his family! Alright, so maybe she had done it mostly for his mother to whom she owed a life debt, but still! _He could show some gratitude instead of mocking me._ But, no, he was Draco 'holier-than-thou' Malfoy after all. Gratitude was beneath him.

_Good-for-nothing, arrogant, uncaring, 'I'm-oh-so-Slytherin' aristocrat!_

Madam Malkin, Harry realised once she had tuned in the older witch again, was still not finished with her sucking up. _Does she ever shut up? She certainly didn't act like this when I came here seven years ago._ But that, of course, might have had something to do with the fact that Madam Malkin had not recognised the famous Hariah Potter back then. She glared down at Madam Malkin who did not notice the hostility that was being aimed at her as she continued to yak away cheerfully. All the while Harry could feel Malfoy's mocking gaze upon her and her fury, as well as her embarrassment, continued to rise. She could not decide which one she hated more at that moment: Madam Malkin or Draco Malfoy.

The older witch finally finished pinning Harry's robes into place and glanced up, her words coming to a halt in mid-sentence when she, at last, noticed the high colour in her prize customer's cheeks and the glint of anger in jade green eyes.

'Oh, my dear girl!' she laughed merrily. 'Please forgive me. I'm embarrassing you, aren't I?'

_No, you think?_

The soft timbre of a chuckle sounded from within the shop; Harry did not need to look around to know who was responsible. Keeping her uncharacteristically icy eyes fixed on Malkin's face, Harry dragged on a painful smile that was nothing short of insincere and made no verbal reply.

'You must excuse me, Ms Potter; my tongue has been known to run away with me on many an occasion.'

_You don't say._

'Especially when I get started on delicious topics, and no one can deny that that of you and You-Know-Who is nothing short of mouth-watering ...'

_Oh, boy._

At long last, Harry's school robes were ready and wrapped in brown paper and she was free to leave the cosy little shop that had begun to feel suffocative. As she hurried to the door, her robes tucked under her arm and Madam Malkin happily calling, 'Come back again soon, Ms Potter!' after her, she glanced one last time at Draco Malfoy; she expected him to make a taunting comment or at least sneer at her as she walked past him, but he did nothing of the sort. On the contrary, his face was expressionless again.

However, she caught the sparkle of amusement that continued to dance in his silvery eyes and had to fight a scowl off of her face, knowing all too well that his merriment was at her expense.

_Git._

_

* * *

_'Would Mistress care for second helpings of treacle tart?'

'Merlin, no, Kreacher; I can't take another bite,' Harry said, leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms over her head. Even after so many years of neglect, Kreacher still proved to be an excellent cook and Harry, ravenous after her long day out, had eaten more than usual and was close to bursting now. With a contented sigh, she stood up, intending to go to bed early.

'Dinner was great, Kreacher, thanks. I'm going to turn in now.'

'Mistress, wait; Kreacher forgot to tell ...'

Harry, already halfway to the door, turned back. 'What is it?'

'Forgive Kreacher, but a letter came for Mistress this afternoon.'

'Oh, that's alright, Kreacher. Where is it?'

'Kreacher put it in Mistress' room.'

'Right; thanks.'

Wishing him a good night, Harry ran upstairs to Sirius' room (she still had not come to term it as her own bedroom yet) and immediately spotted the letter; Kreacher had placed it in full view on her pillow. Plopping down on the handsome bed, she ripped it open and immediately recognised the careless scrawl of her best friend, Ron Weasley.

_Harry_

_How are you keeping up, mate? I've been wanting to drop by sometime (I'm dying to see the makeover you gave that creepy old dump the Blacks called home!) but something or the other always keeps turning up. Sorry about that, mate. Maybe I'll visit you some other time when things aren't so hectic._

_Harry, I know that you said that you'd rather spend the remainder of the summer alone at Grimmauld Place, but just so you know, you can always crash over here if you want some company. Mum says that you're welcome to stay until the 1st of September if you like. We'd all like to see you._

_Have you heard from Hermione yet? She wrote me a couple of days ago and sends her regards and love; she's gone to Australia to collect her parents and said that she's returning around the end of the month. Anyway, we're planning to go to Diagon Alley as soon as the booklists arrive. Is there any chance of meeting you there? If not, we'll see you on the Hogwarts Express. Can't wait._

_Hang in there, mate. We'll see you soon._

_Ron_

_PS: Have you seen the _Daily Prophet_? They can't seem to get enough of you! You've been on the front page Merlin knows how many times AND they have started calling you more names! The latest one was She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Forgotten or something like that. Had me in stitches, that one! Must be annoying, eh?_

Harry smiled.

Same old Ron; it made her feel secure that some things had not changed, like her closest male friend. Sure, the war had had its effect on him, too, but Ron Weasley had managed to stay himself, at least on the outside. Furthermore, he had somehow developed a way of communicating topics with Harry, which the girl was not particularly enthusiastic about, in a subtle and indirect manner that did not result in her withdrawing into herself or offing her good mood. And sure enough, rereading the message proved this point; the letter, despite its easygoing cheerfulness, conveyed Ron's worry over her well being after the war, his family's genuine concern about her being all alone in Grimmauld Place, and his and Hermione Granger's eagerness to see her again to make sure that she was taking good care of herself. It was all there, squeezed in between the lines.

Good old Ron. He always knew when not to pry and how to address sensitive subjects, unlike Hermione, who had all the subtlety of a rampaging Hippogriff in that area despite her above-average intelligence and tact (how many times Ron had recognised Harry's withdrawals and put a stop to Hermione's inevitable mollycoddling!). This was mainly due to the mother-hen attitude she had towards Harry; her anxiety and worry over Harry's well being and state of mind overshadowed her recognition of Harry's need for privacy. Ron, on the other hand, always knew when to shut up and leave the Girl-Who-Lived alone.

She read the letter again, her heart giving a slight twinge as she realised that she was missing her faithful best friends like hell. She duly wrote a reply, giving a brief description of the new look of her house, her latest doings, reassuring him that she was absolutely fine and apologising because it was highly unlikely that they would meet at Diagon Alley like he had proposed. Harry sent her new owl, Selene (which was also snowy white, just like her old owl, Hedwig), with her reply tied to the bird's leg, before changing and collapsing on the bed. It had been a long day and she drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

* * *

_The night sky above her, which seemed a cross between navy and obsidian, was dotted with millions of stars that twinkled merrily at her like diamonds in sunlight. A crescent moon hung high in the bejewelled firmament, giving off its weak silver light, and the Milky Way was distinctly prominent in the ethereal darkness._

_The grass, which was a bluish-black beneath her, was soft and cool and the night was silent; not a sound was heard. From crickets' chirping to the blow of gentle zephyrs, all was quiet, and yet, it was comforting. Her eyes slid shut as she allowed the magic of the beautiful scene to enfold her._

_The silence was interrupted by a sharp hiss that sounded from nearby. Eyes shooting open, she turned her head and saw a snake slithering over the grass towards her. Yet, it was no ordinary serpent. It was barely two inches in length and its body was unbelievably slim. In addition, its smooth skin was silver in colour, as if it were reflecting the moon light. It was small, but beautiful in its own unique serpentine way._

_The snake hissed again and this time, she could make out the Parseltongue words: 'You're the one.'_

'_What?' She sat up, still gazing down at the snake. Somehow knowing that it meant her no harm, she picked it up carefully with her left hand. It curled up in her palm, gazing at her with pupil-less eyes that gleamed like a pair of onyxes at her._

'_You're the one,' it hissed again and, though it was hard to distinguish emotions in a snake's voice, it sounded almost adoring._

_She stared down at the little reptile. It gave off an aura of beauty, dignity and power despite its small size. And, unless her eyes were deceiving her, there was also a touch of tenderness in its fathomless eyes. _

'_What do you mean?' she breathed._

_It stared at her with its enigmatic eyes before it slithered up her palm and began to curl itself around her ring finger. Bemused, she turned her hand so that her palm faced downwards. The reptile was firmly twined around the digit now and its gleaming body began to glow. The glow intensified until it became almost blinding and she had to shield her eyes._

_When the white light faded, she saw to her immense surprise that the snake had morphed into a ... ring? It was a beautiful band that seemed to glitter in the moonlight and in the middle was a beautiful white gem. As she stared at it, somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice that was strangely familiar sounded:_

'_You belong to me, my beauty ... you're mine.'_

_

* * *

_Harry's eyes snapped open and her breathing was irregular. She stared up at the ceiling and was surprised to see the golden sun beams, which had managed to squeeze through the curtains, caressing its creamy surface. It was morning already? Strange; she felt as if she had barely slept, though her mind appeared to be sufficiently rested.

She sat up in bed, yawning and thinking about the latest dream she had had: something about a silver snake that had changed into a ring on her finger and said strange words in Parseltongue that she should not have been able to understand anyway as she was no longer a human Horcrux of Voldemort. _Well, that was certainly a new one_. The dream made quite a contrast to the death-filled nightmares that had become her nightly companions.

Shrugging off the dream, Harry raised a hand to rub the sleepiness from her weary eyes only to feel something hard, cool and metallic graze her face. Taking her hand away from her face, she glanced down at her fingers and did an award-worthy imitation of a beached salmon when she saw the beautiful white gold ring that rested on her ring finger.

_What – what ... how – w-why ... wha-! Where the _hell_ did _that_ come from?!_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Like we didn't know _that_ would happen! ::snort:: lol. Anyways, so that was my version of a female Harry; I don't know if her character is good or not, but I hope to improve it in the coming chapters. I also know that there wasn't too much happening in this chapter (which is more of an after-the-war explanatory kind of chappy) what with Andromeda and all, but I didn't throw her in there just for the heck of it; Andromeda does have a role to play in the future.**

**And I should probably warn you right now that this fic won't have a huge, edge-of-your-seat swashbuckling plot; this is just a lighthearted fic I wanted to try my hand at. :)  
**

**So, please leave a review? XD Your opinions really count in writing a fic and improving my writing, so I'll really appreciate it if you guys gave me some concrit as well :D**

**COMING SOON: _CHAPTER THREE - Of Rings and Engagements_  
**


	3. Of Rings and Engagements

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: OF RINGS AND ENGAGEMENTS**

Draco was most rudely awakened from a wonderful dream – which had involved a pair of beautiful eyes that had reminded him of a lush rainforest and filled him with a feeling of possessive protectiveness and overwhelming warmth – by a simultaneous burning and freezing sensation in his finger. He shot up in his king-sized bed with a rather undignified yelp, clutching the fingers of his left hand with his right. As the painful sensation eventually subsided from his ring finger, he realised that the agony had been caused by his engagement ring. He stared at it but it looked innocently normal as if it had not nearly burnt/frozen his finger off not ten seconds ago.

_Something's happened!_

_Duh_, added the untamed part of his brain that dared to use such colloquial terms.

In one swift motion, he had pushed the soft covers off his body and swung his long legs off his bed. Two minutes later, he stood in front of the large doors of his mother's suite, still dressed in black satin pyjamas. He knocked urgently on the mahogany doors, resisting the powerful urge to just knock the obstacle down with a blast of magic and barge into the room uninvited; he was _that_ anxious. For reasons that remained inexplicable, Draco had become rather fond of the idea of having a mysterious fiancée that was perfect for him in every way imaginable, as if made just for him; and the thought of something bad happening to the unknown girl or the rings or anything that that could bode ill for the engagement made him feel worried and upset.

And he had only been wearing the ring for less than twenty four hours before which he had been positively repulsed by the idea of marriage at such a young age! Go figure.

'Come in,' his mother's musical voice came floating through the polished wood. Draco did not waste a moment. He threw open the doors and hurried inside.

His mother gave him a shrewd look from across the room where she had been gazing out through the large windows at the sun-bathed gardens of their manor. Draco had to admire her great gift of perception when she remarked in a concerned tone before he could even open his mouth, 'You're up early, Dragon, and your forehead is creased; what is troubling you?'

Pushing aside his admiration for his mother's shrewdness, Draco quickly explained what had happened earlier, trying as hard as he could to appear calm and collected as opposed to nervous and worried. Narcissa listened with a completely neutral expression on her face before her face broke into a sudden smile at the end of his narration.

'You have nothing to worry about, Draco; that pain has happened once and there will not be a repetition of such an episode. Do not fret.'

'But, Mother, why did my ring hurt my finger like that just now?'

Narcissa chuckled. 'Oh, come now, love, you are an intelligent young man. You do not need any explanations from me. Surely you can guess what has happened?'

Draco gazed at his mother. Now that she had said so, he did think that he knew the answer. Perhaps he had known even back in his bedroom but had been too anxious to acknowledge it.

'The other ring has located my fiancée.' It was a statement, not a question.

'That is exactly right,' Narcissa beamed at him. 'The feeling of being burnt and frozen is an effect the ring evokes in you to inform you that your bride-to-be has been successfully found.'

'So there really is such a girl out there?' blurted Draco before he could stop himself. He flushed slightly when his mother chuckled with amusement at his startled outburst.

'Of course, darling; whatever made you feel otherwise?'

He coloured again. _Because I did not think that there would be such a woman out there who could be happy with me and vice versa?_

Before he could come up with a reasonable reply, his mother smiled at him and said, 'I think I understand, Draco. But you need not worry so. The deed has been done; the ring has accomplished its quest. Now, all that is left is for the girl to reveal herself.'

Draco began to return her smile when the implications of her last sentence made themselves horribly clear to him and his face promptly resembled a black thundercloud. 'The _Daily Prophet_?' he asked tonelessly.

'Yes, Draco,' his mother answered sympathetically. 'I know it is frustrating, but it must be done. Otherwise, the girl might never know what the ring that had suddenly appeared on her finger is or what to do about it. But, it will be over and done with soon,' she added comfortingly when Draco's mood did not appear to improve.

He sighed. 'I know, Mother. So, when shall we inform them?'

Narcissa made a small face that might have possibly been a grimace as she straigtened her silk nightrobe. 'We might as well do it sooner rather than later. I shall inform them today itself.'

Draco's heart sank. He did not want to contemplate the reception he would receive when he arrived at Hogwarts on the first of September, especially from the female population of the school. But, it was just like his mother had said; it could not be helped. He would just have to endure the field day they would be having at the _Daily Prophet_ and all the gossip about him that would travel faster than the speed of light.

'Very well then, Mother.'

Narcissa smiled gently at him and gave him a small nod in dismissal. Draco made to leave but his mother called him back again. He faced her curiously.

She gracefully made her way across the spacious suite and embraced him fondly. 'Happy eighteenth, darling,' she whispered with a brilliant smile.

Draco grinned down at her. 'Thank you.'

'Now, why don't you go and get dressed so I can give you your birthday gift?' There was a hint of playfulness in her voice as she spoke.

'Yes, Mother.'

As Draco left the room, he forced himself to push away the thoughts of all the juicy news that would soon be printed in the _Prophet_ about him and instead concentrate on the girl to whom he might soon be married.

_I wonder who she is. Maybe someone I know from Hogwarts?_

_

* * *

_

Harry raised her hand higher to examine the ring more closely. It was extremely beautiful, she had to admit. The white gold was stunning as were the tiny gems embedded in the band, and the single hexagonal diamond in the centre that sparkled brightly in the light just took her breath away. Looking even closer, she realised that the edges of the ring were coated in a light gold. It was gorgeous and obviously very valuable and expensive; and, in Harry's eyes, it looked to be an engagement ring.

_But what the hell is it doing on _my_ hand?_

She stroked it warily with a finger. The ring was quite smooth except for the places where the minuscule diamond gems were set in the white gold. She held her hand out in front of her and angled it in this way and that, admiring the smooth gleam of the band and the additional sparkles that came to the hexagonal diamond. It did not look bad on her, Harry decided, but at the same time it looked just so expensive and foreign that it did not feel like it belonged there. She had never owned anything expensive in her life before Hogwarts (whatever she had owned that had truly belonged to her, the most expensive would probably have not cost more than ten pounds tops) and even after her introduction to the magical world and her inheritance, she had not bought anything too costly for herself; thus having the ring on her finger was an alien sensation.

_How did it get here?_

Harry thought of that pleasant dream she had been having before sleep had abandoned her. It was the same ring, she was sure of that. But how did a ring that she had only seen in a dream suddenly appear on her finger? As far as she knew, such a thing was impossible. She had experienced her fair share of magic-induced visions in sleep, but mere _dreams_ involving magic was something she had not heard of before; and the dream she had seen of the snake-turned-diamond-ring certainly had had no feel of a vision. What was going on?

Her mind still mulling over the mystery, Harry closed the fingers of her right hand over the ring, preparing to pull it off. No matter how pretty it was or how snugly it fit her, she could not just leave a ring of which she knew nothing about on her finger, period. And with that thought, Harry gave the ring one firm tug.

It did not budge a millimetre.

_What the –?_

She pulled harder this time, but it still did not come off. Harry stared at it with wide eyes, alarm bells of _ring-stuck-on-finger-very-bad_ beginning to go off in her head. _What the hell is going on?!_ She yanked at it again and again but her efforts were fruitless. The ring remained obstinately on her finger.

Great. She had a beautiful ring that had appeared from God knows where and the thing would not even come off!

_This is not good._

_

* * *

_

Harry looked down queasily at the plate of fried eggs, sausages and toasts that her house elf had placed in front of her. She had no appetite and, frankly, the thought of stomaching anything made her want to hurl.

Her attention was caught by Kreacher who had observed the less-than-enthusiastic expression on her face. 'Mistress Hariah has not touched her breakfast. Does Mistress want something else to consume?'

'No, no, it's fine, Kreacher,' said Harry quickly, shaking her head slightly. 'I'm just not very hungry.'

How could she be? Right after she had "fulfilled her destiny" (trust the dramatists at the _Daily Prophet_ to come out with such sappy phrases!), she was now faced with another complication. And as small a problem that the ring-that-just-bloody-refused-to-come-off seemed to present her, compared with all the others she had faced, it was still a _problem_! Had she not had enough of that to last her three entire lifetimes?

Even though she knew that it would not work, she half-heartedly tried to pull the ring off of her finger yet again. It clung as tightly to the digit as before. Harry had done everything that she could think of to remove it. She had twisted it this way and that, washed her hand with soap, poured some oil onto her fingers and when none of the afore-mentioned worked, she had even licked her finger all over in the hopes that saliva would be a sufficient lubricant. It was all in vain. Heck, she had even screamed at the accursed ring! The only thing she had not attempted was magic because the only spells that came to mind were _Reducto_ and _Diffindo_, both of which presented the risk of losing her finger, which was not a thought that appealed much to her.

_Damned ring! _

Though the suspicion had arisen more than once, Harry did not think that the ring was a Dark artefact. It did not give off the aura of sinister magic that most objects associated with the Dark Arts did; nor had it really threatened her life in any way. But she could not wholly accept that it was one hundred percent benign either. It was stuck on her finger, for the sake of Merlin, and it did not even feel too tight! She should have been able to pull it off easily; but against all logic, she had failed. Obviously, something was amiss.

Harry was pulled out of her irritated thoughts when Kreacher began to insist that she should take in some nutrition. Smiling comfortingly, she assured him that she was just fine; she neglected to mention that she had a diamond ring – which looked suspiciously like an engagement band – that had appeared in the night. Harry had decided not to tell the house elf about it, considering that she did not want to make such a fuss about the situation and also that she felt rather embarrassed about the whole thing. Seriously, who ever heard of a diamond ring from a weird dream suddenly appearing on one's finger and stubbornly staying there? And was it truly an engagement ring as it seemed to be? Was she engaged to some unknown stranger right now?

The whole situation was utterly ridiculous!

No, she would not tell Kreacher about it, though she could see the honest concern in his eyes. Just as she was about to finish this off as her final decision, another thought interrupted her. What if Kreacher knew about magic that might involve dreams? After all, house elves had powerful magic of their own that varied greatly from that of wizards. Kreacher might know the what-why-how of her situation and, most importantly, how to get rid of it. He would know about magical arts unknown to her and others of her own race.

Harry contemplated the house elf that was clearing the table with a displeased frown on his face. Now that the possibility had occurred to her, she did want to question him. But she still did not want him to know the facts. So, how to go about it without him suspecting anything?

'Kreacher,' Harry began nonchalantly, 'what do you know about magic and dreams?'

'Magic and dreams, Mistress?' 'The elf looked up at her in unmistakable surprise. 'Kreacher begs your forgiveness, Mistress Hariah, but Kreacher does not understand.'

'I meant do you know if there can be a connection between dreams and magic? Is it possible for something one sees in a dream to be there in reality the next morning or something like that, through magic perhaps?' Harry looked at Kreacher earnestly, desperate for an answer to her queries.

Kreacher looked bemused by her strange inquiry but he answered nevertheless. 'Kreacher has not heard of such cases before, Mistress Hariah. Kreacher knows that magic can show visions to wizards and magical beings through sleep, but Kreacher has never heard of magical dreams.'

Harry's heart sank but she pressed on, 'What about what I said just now? Be it a dream or a vision, but is it possible for objects that a person sees while they're asleep to appear in real life later on?'

The house elf looked utterly bewildered. 'Kreacher knows not, Mistress. Kreacher has not heard of it.'

'Oh. Right, well, thanks anyway.'

She buried her face in her hands to hide her disappointment. She was aware of the house elf watching her, but she ignored him. A few seconds later, she heard him returning to his chores, respecting her space. Harry sighed into her palm. She was no closer to getting rid of the stupid ring than she had been before and she could not think of anything else to do.

_There must be some way to get this thing off, there just has to be!_

'Mistress.'

'Yeah?' Harry glanced up at Kreacher.

'An owl for you, Mistress Hariah.'

She looked at the window and, sure enough, there was a handsome tawny sitting on the sill, peering through the glass at her, waiting to be let in. Harry hurried to the window to grant it entrance. The owl flew to the table in what appeared to be a very tired manner. He held out his leg to which a letter was tied with string. As Harry removed it, she scrutinised the owl and realised that it looked utterly exhausted. It had obviously come a long way to find her. Who would send her a letter from so far away?

She swiftly unsealed the roll of parchment and unfolded her letter. A smile lit her face when she saw who it was from: Hermione.

_Dear Harry_

_How are you, Harry? I do hope everything is alright. I am in Canberra at the moment, here to recover my parents. I managed to lift their memory charms and they are perfectly alright, thank Merlin! We're planning to return to Britain soon, possibly by the end of the month. How about all three of us meet up at Diagon Alley then? Ron seems quite up for the idea!_

_Which reminds me, have you talked to Ron yet? I heard from him that you're spending the remainder of the summer alone at No. 12 Grimmauld Place! It's not true, is it? Oh, Harry, you shouldn't stay alone! I'm sure the Weasleys will be all too happy to have you over. Please consider it._

_I do not have much time, else I'd write longer, but I must leave now. I can't wait to see you and Ron again. I miss you two very much! Please take care, Harry and stay out of trouble. If you feel too lonely, please go over to Ron's. Being cooped up alone for too long can be extremely unhealthy!_

_We'll hopefully meet very soon._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Harry had to smile. Typical Hermione Granger; she was in complete mother hen mode! Unlike Ron, she expressed her worry over Harry much more frankly. Harry was used to her insensitive bluntness when it came to Hermione's anxiety over her, but it still annoyed her ever so slightly. Really, her friend should know by now that Harry no longer tended to fall into depression or anger issues like after Sirius had died. But, in any case, that her friends cared for her so much was heartening to know.

Her smile faltered when her eyes landed on the tawny owl again. No wonder the poor thing looked so wasted! It had come all the way from Down Under to London! Gently picking up the owl, Harry left for Sirius' room, guiltily apologising to an irate Kreacher for letting such a good breakfast go to waste. In the bedroom, Harry put the tawny in Selene's empty cage. With a hoot of gratitude, the owl began to thirstily drink from the little water bowl while Harry proceeded to pen an answer to Hermione.

Her reply was, more or less, the same as the one she had written to Ron. After greatly assuring Hermione that she was fine and not feeling lonely in the slightest, Harry once again politely turned down the invitation to meet up at Diagon Alley. It was not because she did not want to see her two closest friends, but because she wanted some solitude. Harry could not explain it; what she knew was that she really needed some me-time before re-entering the hectic Wizarding World again.

This was also the reason why she was refusing to go to The Burrow and spend the remainder of the holiday with Ron's family. Apart from that, she did not want to intrude; she knew that they were still mourning the loss of Fred Weasley. Harry herself had still not come to terms with his death, especially after having known him for nearly seven years.

The guilt began to arise again and she immediately pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Harry was about to seal the letter when her eye caught the sight of the diamond ring on her finger. For a moment, she deeply considered telling Hermione about it. As the smartest witch of her age with a brain that was brimming with the knowledge she had gained from countless books, Hermione was bound to know how the ring came to her and how to remove it. But Harry changed her mind at the last second. The last thing she wanted was to worry her female best friend by telling her about that dream she had had. If there was one thing that could push Hermione's anxiety into overdrive, it was Harry having strange dreams.

However, it was with regret that Harry sealed the letter and put it aside for the owl to deliver it once it had recovered; she really wanted answers about the ring, but it would have to wait until she finally met her friends again.

Suddenly, September the first seemed just too far away.

* * *

'Ginny, _calm down!_ I'm sure she's alright.'

'But we haven't seen hide or hair of Harry ever since the funeral, Ron! How do we know for sure that she's alright?'

'Gin, I showed you the letter she sent the other day, didn't I? Harry says she's doing fine.'

'Damn it, Ronald, this is Hariah Potter we're talking about! Of course she'd say that even if she were an inch from death! You know what she's like.'

'Oh, for the love of Merlin!'

Ron Weasley buried his face in his hands, grinding his teeth in frustration. Did his little sister think that he did not care for Harry as much as she did, if not more? Ginny's tirade was not helping his nerves in the least. He was as worried about his best friend as Ginny and Hermione were combined, but if Harry wanted to be alone, who were they to intrude? He had seen enough of Harry Potter's need for privacy to know when to stay well away from her. But his little sister was obviously not going to follow his example.

'I'm going to visit her,' Ginny declared abruptly, standing up from the kitchen table on which she had been perched.

'Ginny, I'm telling you, leave her alone,' Ron growled through his teeth, looking around when he heard the gentle tap against the window which indicated the arrival of an owl. Getting up, he quickly made his way to the window. It was the owl that delivered the daily newspaper.

'But Harry's all alone in London! We have to check up on her!'

'Ginny,' Ron fought down the urge to rip out his hair as he unfolded the _Daily Prophet_ with forced calm, 'I know Harry, OK? She just needs to be alone. I can tell. She's fine.'

'But –'

'Look, I'm worried about her, too, OK! I've been her best friend for over six years! But she wants to be on her own. Think what she's been through in this war, Ginny! After all that, don't you think Harry would need some space to get her head back together? She's OK, Gin, really!

'Besides, she's with Kreacher. He'll make sure she eats; you know what house elves are like when it comes to their owners. And we'll see her on the Hogwarts Express soon, too. Please listen to me, Gin, just leave her alone. She wants to be alone. Let her be.'

Ginny stared at her older brother for a few moments with a surprised expression before remarking wryly, 'Never took _you_ to be one to use tact, Ron.'

Her brother merely scowled at the implied insult before turning his attention to the front page. His mouth fell open.

'What?' asked his sister curiously, noticing his goldfish expression.

'What the ... um, er ... damn, Ginny, you gotta see this.'

'What is it?' She peered over his shoulder and stared at the page for a moment before her own jaw hit the floor as well.

The headline screamed:

**MALFOY HEIR ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED!**

**WHO COULD BE THE MYSTERY GIRL?**

'_Bloody hell_!' murmured brother and sister in unison.

* * *

**A/N: Fast update, eh? And the reason for that is right above: this was a short, transition chapter that needed to happen to make things more realistic before the next could be written - and thus, not really worth a long wait at all. The next chappy is where things begin to kick in; but don't expect that update to be this fast, ne? It would probably take me more time to get on with that ;)**

**To keep confusions to a minimum: these first three chapters take place around Draco's birthday (4th and 5th June [?]), but there will be a time-skip of around three months in the next chapter which takes place on 1st September (you know what that means, right? ::wink::) As the fic progresses, I'll add these little time reminders so that things won't get too muddled for readers to keep up with. :)**

**Anyway, despite the shortness and all, I hope this chappy was not all that boring. :) Till next time, ja ne!**

**COMING UP NEXT: _CHAPTER FOUR - Train Ride Conversations_ (I really need to get a little more creative with chapter titles :P)  
**


	4. TrainRide Conversations

**A/N: TIME-SKIP!!! Just a reminder that this chapter takes place about 3 months after the previous one - meaning September the first, people! XD**

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

**DEDICATION: I dedicate this chappy to the super-awesome _SLYTHERIN-NETTE_ whose feedback and concrit (and let's not forget the avid curiosity lol) have been a great source of inspiration and motivation for me! Thanks, Slythe! XD**

**So, on with the chappy. Hope y'all like it and that it was worth the wait ;)**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER FOUR: TRAIN-RIDE CONVERSATIONS**

It was crowded.

It was always crowded on Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station and Draco absolutely loathed it; especially when the undivided attention of nearly all present was on him.

'Pay them no mind, Dragon,' intoned Narcissa from beside him. 'Just ignore them. Let them stare.'

Draco inclined his head once and continued to push his trolley in front of him, searching for an empty compartment in the scarlet engine that was the Hogwarts Express. He was quite glad that he had not refused his mother when she had offered to see him off; her presence was soothing and gave him the confidence to hold his head high and make his way through all the witches and wizards on the platform, most of whom stopped in their tracks and gaped at the Malfoys with open mouths and wide eyes.

Beside him, Narcissa Malfoy walked with graceful steps, her posture held straight and proud, and with dignity in her eyes. Draco unconsciously imitated her. Neither mother nor son would give the public any chance of deeming them weak or vulnerable.

The young aristocrat allowed himself to meet the eyes of some of the onlookers. Some were looking at the Malfoy duo with hostility or mistrust - no surprises there - but most seemed to be in awe of them.

_No doubt because scar-head defended us at the Wizengamot_, thought Draco dryly, staring down a young girl who had been gaping in a most blatant manner at him as he passed by. Really, it was almost shocking how much everyone seemed to rely on the words or opinions of their newest heroine. A few defensive words from Hariah Potter on the Malfoys' behalf and everyone felt awed by them; respected them even. And to think that – before Potter's interference – the entire public had been hoping that the ex Death Eater family would be executed!

Not that he was complaining about what Potter had done, mind.

'How about here, darling?' Narcissa asked suddenly, ignoring two wizards that had been staring at her with eyes the size of dinner plates. 'It seems empty enough.'

Draco nodded and heaved his trunk onto the train through the open door. He then turned to bid his mother farewell. Before he could even open his mouth, however, he overheard the whispered mutters of a passing group of staring girls whom he vaguely recognised as seventh year Hufflepuffs:

'Can you believe –?'

'At such a young age too!'

'– engaged already –'

'– magical engagement rings or something.'

'Wonder who the girl is?'

'– supposed to find the perfect girl! Isn't that amazing?'

'_One true love_!'

'– so romantic! Wish it were me ...'

'Can you see his ring?'

'There! On his finger, I see it!'

Draco, burning with embarrassment, gave the gawking teenagers one heck of a contemptuous glare and sent them scurrying. He dropped the expression when they had disappeared and a look of pain mixed with irritation swept across his pointed features. How could he have forgotten? Of course everyone in the Wizarding World knew of his unusual engagement, courtesy of the media. And it was not surprising that even after nearly three months since the news had been printed in the _Prophet_, the hot gossip had not cooled down. It was only expected, after all, what with him being an ex Death Eater set free thanks to his old school rival who happened to be everyone's heroine.

And it seemed that the world at present was more interested in Draco Malfoy's sort-of love life than in the whole Death Eater-turned-good-guy-whose-mother-had-saved-Harry-Potter's-life thing.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by his mother. 'Stay strong, Draco,' she said encouragingly. 'There will be much gossip and rumours about your engagement, but do not let that get to you. It will die down soon.'

'When, Mother?' he asked, giving her a pained look. 'I'm getting rather tired of all the speculations that the _Daily Prophet_ has taken to printing about me and my unknown fiancée! I doubt that it would be much of an improvement to go to school and actually listen to people saying them out loud to my face!'

'I understand, love,' she answered gently. 'But, please, you must be patient. It will all calm down after you meet your bride-to-be.'

'Mother, it's been three months! Not one single girl has come forth – unless you count that fat woman who made a fake Malfoy ring and claimed to be my fiancée!' He shuddered at the unpleasant memory of the forty-five year old witch in fluorescent pink robes and wearing too much make up that had turned up at the Manor barely two days after his birthday. Draco had almost suffered cardiac arrest right then and there.

'Patience, Dragon, patience. I have given this a lot of thought and I rather fancy that the girl might be one you attend school with.'

'What?'

'Perhaps that is the reason we have not heard from her yet; she might have been waiting till the return to Hogwarts so as to properly meet you and make herself known as your fiancée, Draco. It is quite probable.'

'Perhaps,' repeated Draco a little doubtfully.

'In any case,' Narcissa smiled brightly at her son, 'my heart tells me that you shall find the girl soon. So, do not fret, love. And as soon as you know who it is, please do not delay in owling me.'

'Of course, Mother.'

'Now, take care of yourself, Dragon and ...' she trailed off.

'And?' Draco prompted.

Narcissa sighed slightly. 'Draco,' she said very seriously, 'you are aware that Hariah Potter ...'

There was a tense silence that stretched on for a few agonizing seconds.

'What about her?' he finally asked with a slight edge to his voice.

She sighed again before continuing, 'Darling, you know that we owe her much; she has done us a great service by defending us at the court... however – correct me if I'm wrong – I do not think that your dislike for her has changed very much ...'

Draco gazed down at Narcissa with an unreadable look in his mercury eyes. 'You're right,' he said bluntly, 'it hasn't.'

'I thought as much,' his mother murmured in a rather disheartened manner. 'In any case, the point I want to make is that we're on the same side now, regardless of what you feel for her. I would rather that you do not get into one of your petty quarrels from now on. It would be useless and you would gain nothing but pointless enemies if you pick a fight with her.' Narcissa looked at him pleadingly. 'You do understand what I am trying to say, don't you, Draco?'

'I do, Mother,' he answered somewhat reluctantly.

'You do not have to like her,' she pressed on. 'Just be civil; and if you cannot do that, ignore her at least. But, please, do not break the truce that has been formed between us. She is a useful ally and I would rather that we stay on the same side as her.'

'Mother, I understand,' Draco repeated. 'Our reputation and our name is at stake and you do not want it further tarnished –'

'No, Draco, this is not only about our reputation. This is about our life. We are on the Light Side now and I, for one, am tired of enemies and war. I just want to spend the rest of my days in peace with my family. Making enemies with Potter merely because of a childhood rivalry will only disturb this calm that has descended upon the world. Please, just keep a civil tongue, Dragon ... do not get into entanglements with her ... or any other person in Hogwarts, Gryffindor or otherwise,' she added as an afterthought.

Draco nodded stiffly. 'Very well, then, Mother, I shall stay out of her way.'

Narcissa smiled at him. 'Thank you, my Dragon.'

The shrill noise of a whistle being blown rent the smoky air.

'The train is about to leave. Farewell, darling.' Narcissa embraced her son lovingly.

'Goodbye, Mother; I shall write tomorrow.' He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before stepping onto the train. However, a sudden thought occurred to him and he turned around abruptly to scrutinise her through the still open door.

'You like her, don't you,' he stated frankly, watching her shrewdly.

Narcissa smiled demurely at him; she did not need to ask who he was talking about. 'I admit that I have certainly grown a little fond of her. That she saved my family from life imprisonment when she could have stood back and allowed the Ministry to throw us in Azkaban is not something that I can lightly brush aside.'

'She merely did it because you saved her life, only because of that.'

'Perhaps, but I respect her for that. My saving her was purely unintentional; at the time, I was only thinking of _you_, Dragon and I know that she is perfectly aware of that. Yet, she still saved us and I maintain that she is a woman of honour deserving of my respect.'

Draco stared at his mother, trying to understand her logic but at that moment, the passing guard slammed the train door shut and he could not question her further. The train began to move and Draco quickly moved to the window. His mother smiled and waved at him as the train moved further away from King's Cross. Just before it turned the corner, he saw his mother give him one last wave before Disapparating.

* * *

'Hello, Harry.'

'Luna!' Turning away from the Hogwarts Express, Harry smiled at the Ravenclaw of whom she had become extremely fond over the years. 'How have you been?'

The blonde shrugged, her usual dreamy smile etched on her face and her orange radish earrings swinging from her earlobes. 'Fine, I guess. It felt good to finally have some peace and be at home.'

'Yes, it was,' murmured Harry, thinking of her latest summer which had been the most peaceful compared to all the others she had had ever since her entrance to the magical world. 'How's your father?' she added a little tersely. Whereas she rather liked Xenophilius Lovegood despite his eccentricity, she did harbour some ill feelings towards him for betraying her to the Death Eaters a few months earlier, even if he had been only trying to save his daughter who had been captured by Voldemort's supporters.

'He's fine, too,' Luna replied; and as if she had read Harry's thoughts, she looked at Harry with her protuberant eyes and added, 'Daddy wanted me to send his apologies to you as he cannot meet you in person; he said that he wronged you greatly and wants you to forgive him if you can ... but what was Daddy apologising for?' She gave Harry a mildly curious look.

Harry shook her head slightly. 'Nothing too important ...' She was not sure how to answer to Xenophilius' apology; he had betrayed her, after all, and she and Ron and Hermione had barely escaped with their lives! But it was all in the past now and not of much consequence. _I suppose that I could forgive him_, she mused and said so to Luna who nodded vaguely.

Falling into a comfortable silence, they both returned their attention to the train and resumed pushing their trolleys forward, searching for an available compartment and their friends. Unsurprisingly, most of the compartments at the front and in the middle of the train were occupied and the two girls made their way through the crowded platform to the back of the train. Along the way, Harry was fully aware of all the looks and stares that she was attracting. She tried to ignore them, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. People had stared at her often before and she ought to be used to the attention, but this was different. Before, they stared because she was the Girl-Who-Lived; now, it was because she had become their saviour. It was all heroine-worshipping now. Frankly, Harry did not know which one was worse.

'Harry! Luna!'

Harry looked around at the familiar voice and grinned. 'Hi, Neville.'

Neville Longbottom was on his hands and knees on the ground from where he had been peering under his trolley and around him.

'Lost Trevor again?' she asked amusedly, referring to his pet toad which had escaped countless times from the Gryffindor boy.

'Yeah; he still hasn't lost his touch at hide and seek,' responded Neville jokingly, raising his face so that Harry got a proper look at him. She winced slightly. Neville Longbottom was no longer the round-faced, forgetful boy who got intimidated by anything and everything. He was a man now and he still bore the scars from the cruel journey that had led him to manhood. Harry could all too clearly see the harsh, half-healed wounds on his face that he had gotten from Alecto and Amycus Carrow during his 'punishments' the previous year. His features also no longer had the naive, boyish innocence from his earlier years; the difference was almost shocking.

Neville noticed the guilty look that came to his friend's face at the sight of the wicked marks on his face. He smiled brightly at her. 'Don't worry, they don't hurt anymore,' he said simply.

Harry managed a small smile at him.

'Would you like some help looking for Trevor, Neville?' Luna asked dreamily. Without waiting for an answer, she dropped to all fours beside him.

Neville looked bemusedly at her. 'Er, thanks, Luna.' He turned to Harry. 'If you're looking for Ron and Hermione, they're further down the train. Why don't you go on ahead? We'll catch up with you soon.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah.'

'Right, thanks Neville.' With a grateful look at her loyal year mate, Harry continued on her way.

It did not take very long to locate the Weasley clan. Their flaming red hair were like beacons even in the smoky air and when she got closer, she also caught sight of a head of bushy brown hair amongst them. With a grin, she approached them silently.

It was Hermione Granger who noticed her first. Before Harry knew what had happened, her vision was obscured by brown hair and her female best friend's voice sounded right in her ear, 'Oh, Harry, I'm so happy to see you! I missed you so much!'

'Me too, Hermione,' Harry gasped, extracting herself from Hermione's embrace so that she could breathe. Her eyes turned to the red haired family and she smiled genuinely at Ron, Ginny, George and Mrs Weasley, all of whom surged forward to greet her, though not as exuberantly as Hermione.

'All right, Harry?' Ron and George said at the same time while Mrs Weasley and Ginny hugged Harry briefly.

'How have you been, dear?' Mrs Weasley asked, holding Harry at arm's length and examining her critically. 'Have you been taking good care of your food and sleep?'

'Yes, Mrs Weasley, I'm perfectly alright,' Harry gave her a reassuring grin which was returned.

'Hmm ... well, you seem fine, I suppose,' Mrs Weasley said as she let go of the girl that she considered to be her surrogate daughter.

'I am.' Harry smiled again and opened her mouth to inquire how they had been but shut her mouth again at once; it was a stupid question. The Weasleys had just lost a son, after all. Harry glanced at George. It was so strange to see him there alone. He had always been accompanied by his twin brother, Fred. Seeing George alone, the usual happy-go-lucky humour replaced with a strained smile – it just was not right ... and once more Harry got that feeling that it was all because of her.

The whistle blew and she was snapped out of her thoughts. Next moment, Mrs Weasley had shepherded her two youngest children along with Harry and Hermione on to the train while George helped to heave the remaining trunks on board. They leaned out of the window to say their farewells.

'Take care, my dears,' Mrs Weasley said, 'and study hard.'

'And don't blow up the school,' added George with a half-hearted wink as the train began to move. 'But if you do, let me in on it!' he added with a grin, seemingly regaining a fraction of his old sense of humour. His last words earned him a slap on the shoulder from his mother. The rest of them chuckled and waved at the two Weasleys on the platform until the train had rounded the corner and they disappeared from view.

'Well,' said Ron, turning to his sister and friends, 'let's go find a compartment.'

'The ones at the very back are still free,' said Ginny helpfully.

'Right, let's go.'

As they dragged the trunks down the corridors, the occupants in the compartments turned to stare at them and some even popped their heads out of the doors as they passed by. Harry tried not to pay them too much mind but her friends, not used to such attention, was having a harder time than her.

'Geez, Harry,' remarked Ron with dry amusement in his voice when yet another younger student pressed his face to the glass doors to get a better look at them, 'your fan club just keeps getting bigger and bigger, doesn't it?'

'It's not only me,' muttered Harry, 'they're staring at you all too.'

'Because we're with you?' said Ginny.

'Because they know that you people helped me defeat Voldemort most.'

'Oh.'

At long last, they reached the blissful solitude of an empty carriage which they quickly claimed as theirs. Their trunks were soon tucked away and they flopped down on to the seats and proceeded to wait for Neville and Luna who, Harry informed, were on their way. Halfway through their wait, Ron suddenly remarked,

'It's going to be hectic for the teachers, isn't it; with the large number of first years they'll have to manage?'

'Yeah,' the rest of them nodded.

Hogwarts was reopening in such a way that all the students were in the grades that they had been in the previous year, so that they could learn the actual syllabus set for their grade and erase the cruel lessons taught them by the Death Eaters the year before. This meant that the former seventh years that had attended school last year, like Neville, would be in seventh grade this year too. It also meant that along with the former first years, the new batch of eleven-year-olds would be joining the school as well, thus nearly doubling the number of students in Year One. The first year dormitories were sure to be crowded.

'I pity the prefects,' sniggered Ron. 'Those midgets are gonna rub them raw!'

'That's nice, Ron,' said Ginny sarcastically while Harry chuckled and Hermione frowned disapprovingly at the red-head.

'Happy, are you Ronald,' Hermione said icily, 'that you and I are no longer prefects because we dropped out last year?'

'Well, I'm not complaining,' Ron answered bluntly. 'Keeping up with schoolwork and Quidditch while doing duties at the same time was a right pain in the ass; and don't look at me like that, Hermione, just because _you're_ unhappy that you weren't made Head Girl. You chose to drop out with Harry and me to go after You Know Who's bloody Horcruxes!'

'Of course I chose to!' exclaimed Hermione, looking scandalised. 'I wasn't _accusing_ you and Harry of my not being made Head Girl! I was just pointing out that you have a negative attitude when it comes to leadership.'

'Say what?! I do _not_!'

Harry exchanged amused glances with Ginny. Her two best friends still bickered like an old married couple. The familiarity of the scene had quite a comforting touch to it. And from the look on Ginny's face, she quite agreed with her.

'Enough, you two,' the youngest Weasley finally said before the argument completely skyrocketed. 'We haven't even reached Hogwarts yet and you're already at it!'

The two teens in question fell silent, Ron peaceably holding up his hands in surrender and Hermione still looking slightly inclined to treat the auburn-haired male beside her to a real lecture. Ginny shook her head as if to say 'You-two-are-completely-hopeless' before turning to Harry who was seated next to her and inquiring, 'So, how was your summer, Harry? Got enough rest to face your last year at Hogwarts?'

Harry shrugged. 'I guess; the summer was pretty quiet. I went to see Andromeda, by the way ...'

She told them about her visit to the Tonks household and her decision about her godson. When she finished, Hermione looked at her with a pleased and impressed look on her face.

'That's great, Harry. I really do think that you made the right decision in leaving Teddy with his grandmother.'

Harry nodded, the corners of her lips curling upwards. 'Yeah ... and I can visit Andromeda and Teddy when I want to. So I guess what I did was OK.'

'Yes, Harry, it was,' Hermione said gently.

'So, anything else happen other than you partying with Kreacher?' Ron asked lazily, leaning back in his seat. Hermione slapped him across the arm with a '_Ron_!'

'Ouch! What? What'd I say?'

Harry laughed. 'What is it, Ron? You're jealous that you can't party with a house-elf yourself?'

'When did I say that?' he exclaimed looking very confused at the nonsensical direction their conversation had turned to.

She shook her head amusedly. 'Ah, forget it, Ron. As for your question, the answer is no; not much happened really, and I'm glad about that.' Harry reached up a hand to brush back a wayward strand of hair and her eyes were automatically drawn to the diamond ring that rested innocently on her finger. _Ah heck!_ She had almost forgotten about the thing, having become so used to its weight in the past three months. Harry glanced up at her three friends who were chatting among themselves; now was a good time to tell them about her little ... ring problem. She would have preferred to tell Ron and Hermione about it in private, but as it did not really seem to concern anything related to the Dark Arts, Harry figured that she could let Ginny in on the secret as well.

'Guys,' Harry said quietly. Their chatter died away and the two Weasleys and Hermione faced her with curiosity in their eyes. 'Now that Ron has brought up the subject ... well, er, something did happen.'

Unsurprisingly, her friends' eyes immediately filled with anxiety and worry.

'It's not something bad, is it, Harry?' There was a note of panic in Hermione's voice.

'I have no idea ...' Harry said in a whisper.

* * *

'Draco.'

The young Malfoy heir turned around in irritation, ready to flip off the unwanted person behind him, reputation and composure be damned! He had already had his name called from every direction, mostly by girls gushing over his engagement and ring and he had had enough of that kind of attention. Never mind that this particular voice was definitely masculine; if there was a guy after him, then that person was going to be sorely heart broken; Draco was straighter than a poker.

Just as he was raising his hand to flash the one-finger salute, he recognised the young man behind him and immediately halted his hand. It was Blaise Zabini and that was someone that Draco Malfoy most certainly did not want to flip off.

Blaise appeared amused as he glanced at Draco's still half-raised hand with a cocked eyebrow. 'Were you just about to do what I think you were about to do?'

The blond rolled his eyes. 'As a matter of fact, Zabini, yes I was. My patience and self control can only hold out for so long.'

'Indeed,' Blaise chuckled. His dark, handsome eyes took in the trunk that his fellow Slytherin was hauling behind him. 'Looking for a compartment? You're welcome to join me, Draco, if you wish. There's no one else in here.'

Draco glanced at the empty compartment through which his friend had come out and nodded both in agreement and thanks. Blaise held the door open for him and the young aristocrat entered, acknowledging the gesture with a half-smile. A minute later, Draco's trunk was tucked away in the luggage hold and they were seated opposite one another, taking in each other's appearance.

Draco almost immediately noticed that the half-Italian had grown since last he had seen him. Blaise was probably as tall as him now and he also appeared to have bulked up slightly. Other than that, he was unchanged. His deep brown hair was neatly combed like always, the dark eyes were still enigmatic and especially appealing to the delicate gender, and his skin was bronzed to perfection.

'You look well,' he remarked to Blaise. 'I presume that you haven't had to deal with many problems ever since the fall of the Dark Lord, then?'

His companion raised a dark eyebrow. 'And you make that presumption based upon my looking "well"? Don't make such baseless assumptions, Draco ... though one may appear to be doing well, he may have gone through more than you can imagine. Take yourself for an example; Merlin knows the trouble you have been through, courtesy of the Ministry and the _Prophet_, yet you look as _well_ as ever.'

'I am a Malfoy, Blaise. I have an image to uphold.'

His friend merely shook his head. He had already heard those words many a time.

'How were the trials?' he asked with some sympathy in his voice.

Draco grimaced. 'Unpleasant. You should be glad that your family stood neutral in the war, Blaise. At least you escaped the humiliation of imprisonment and being labelled as a Death Eater.'

'Yet, you are free now. And if the _Prophet_ is to be believed, it was all thanks to Miss Chosen One.'

The young aristocrat's eyes hardened slightly, but he nodded nevertheless.

'It's true then?' Blaise stared at his friend incredulously. '_Hariah Potter_ saved your family from Azkaban?'

'Yes,' the other Slytherin forced out through clenched teeth.

His friend look amazed. 'May I ask why? The _Prophet_ didn't specify.'

'Later. I am not in any mood to discuss that poncy Gryffindork.'

'You are on the same side as her now, Draco. Have you forgotten?'

'Regardless, Zabini, I do not have to like her. I am not obligated to shower her with praises and compliments like the rest of the world.'

'Fine, have it your way then. Let us change the topic. What is this engagement I hear of?'

Draco summarized what had taken place in the Malfoy vault three months ago and also explained the history and magic of the Malfoy engagement rings. When he finished, Blaise let out a low whistle.

'It has been three months? And she still has not come forth?'

Draco shook his blond head slowly, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. 'No ... I don't know why.'

'Do you have any idea who it can be?'

'Mother is rather taken with the idea that she is a schoolmate and that I will meet her in Hogwarts.'

'Hmm ... probable.'

'Blaise,' Draco met his friend's gaze steadily, 'I really want to find this girl. Will you help me?'

The half-Italian smiled at the aristocrat. 'Of course, Draco,' he said simply.

* * *

'I was having a dream – wait, don't interrupt Hermione! It wasn't a nightmare – and I saw this tiny silver snake that spoke to me in Parseltongue, and for some reason, I could understand it. It said something like, "You're the one", whatever _that's_ supposed to mean. And then I just picked it up off the ground –'

'Harry, it's common knowledge that you must _never_ pick anything off the ground! You should know that!'

'Thanks, Ron. Now as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted –'

'Sorry 'bout that, Harry.'

'Ron, stop interrupting her!'

'I'm sorry, Hermione.'

Silence.

'Er, Harry, I'm sure they're both finished with the interruptions. Carry on.'

'If you say so, Gin. Anyway, like I said, I just picked the snake up and it – I dunno, just curled around my finger and started to glow weirdly and next thing I know it had turned into a diamond ring!'

Silence met her last words. Ron looked as if he still had not completely managed to digest what he had heard, Ginny looked slightly confused and Hermione was gazing at Harry with a thoughtful frown on her face. Finally, she spoke,

'Well, I honestly don't know what to make of that, Harry, only that it doesn't seem like a bad thing or something evil. Maybe it was just a dream.'

'That makes sense,' murmured Ginny while her brother nodded in agreement, finally having had caught up with the rest of them.

Harry frowned. 'I thought so, too,' she muttered, 'until I woke up the next morning.'

Three pairs of puzzled eyes turned to her. With a sigh, she finally held out her left hand so that her friends could see the beautiful ring that rested on her finger. Her eyes were fixed on the little piece of jewellery and she did not see the look of shock, disbelief and – in Ron's case – utter horror that crossed their features.

'This is the exact same ring I saw in the dream and it was on my finger when I woke up. And to top it all off, the bloody thing won't even come off! I tried everything, but it just wouldn't budge! I don't know what to make of it. Any ideas?'

Harry finally looked up and saw their expressions. She looked bemusedly from Hermione and Ginny's open mouths and wide eyes to the look on Ron's face that suggested that the end of the world had come ahead of schedule; Harry had to bite back a laugh. However, when no one seemed to be able to regain their senses, she could not help but feel a little worried.

'That bad, huh?' she asked in a low voice, watching her friends with apprehension.

Not shockingly, Hermione was the one who shook herself from her stupor first. 'Harry,' she began uncertainly, glancing at the two Weasleys who were still in shock, 'have ... have you been ... um, keeping up with the _Daily Prophet_ lately?'

'No,' Harry answered truthfully, wondering how the newspaper had anything to do with her predicament, 'I cancelled my subscription ages ago, you know that. Ever since they started advertising that biography of Dumbledore that Skeeter wrote. And after the whole Horcrux thing, I didn't bother to renew my subscription.'

'No wonder she doesn't know anything about that thing!' exclaimed Ron hoarsely who was still gaping at the ring with an expression akin to the one he used to wear whenever he saw Crookshanks, Hermione's kneazle-cat.

Hermione ignored him. 'Harry, that is very irresponsible,' she scolded her female best friend. 'You must keep up with the news, you know that!'

Harry snorted rather contemptuously. 'Like I can depend on the _Prophet_ for _news_! Half the stories in that thing aren't true and lately, all it has ever done is just print story upon story about me. I should think that I don't need it much.'

'Well, if you had read the latest editions of the _Daily Prophet_, maybe you might have known what that ring on your finger is ...'

Harry sat up straight. 'What'd you mean?' she demanded breathlessly. 'What does the _Prophet_ know of this ring? What do _you _know about it?'

Hermione looked nervously at the other two occupants in the compartment before turning to Harry with a huge grin on her face that was rather disconcerting. 'Harry,' she spoke through her great big smile, 'we're your friends and we'll love you no matter what.'

Harry's face drained of colour. 'Oh no.'

'No matter what you choose, we'll always support you. Isn't that right?' she shot at the two Weasleys. Ginny nodded rather mechanically but Ron needed a pinch from Hermione before he replied in the affirmative.

Harry paled even further. 'Oh shit!'

'Every thing will turn out absolutely fine.'

'_Damn it, Hermione, just give me the bad news already_!'

Her friend winced, but she managed to keep up her smile nevertheless. 'That ring ... well, it's an, um, an engagement ring.'

'Yeah, I figured that much! What else about it?'

'Well ... You're ... uh ... you'reengagedtoMalfoy,' Hermione said in a rush.

'Huh? I didn't get that.'

Hermione bit her lip nervously before repeating her words, slowly this time, ''You. Are. Engaged. To. Draco. Malfoy. Now.'

There was a beautiful moment of silence that was the absolute definition of _'the calm before the storm'_. And then,

'SAY _WHAT_?!'

* * *

**A/N: Ehehehe ... so ... ::sweat-drop:: ... cliffhangers, anyone? **

**::runs for life, fearing readers' scathing reviews:: LOL**

**UP NEXT: _CHAPTER FIVE - The Attempted Self-Combustion of the Finger_ (Interpret that any way you want :P)  
**


	5. Attempted SelfCombustion of the Finger

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER FIVE: THE ATTEMPTED SELF-COMBUSTION OF THE FINGER**

'I, Hariah Potter, am engaged to _Draco bleeding Malfoy_?' Harry's voice had reached new peaks and it did not seem like she would calm down anytime soon. Not unless someone told her that her friends had had their brains removed in some freak incident that she had not been informed of. 'How in all the pits of Hell can I possibly be engaged to that – that – that _git_?'

'Harry –,' Hermione began but was cut off.

'This is a joke, right?' Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'This is just a sick joke some sadist played on me, isn't it?'

'I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think it is –'

'This has got to be a joke! This can't be real!'

'Harry, Harry, please relax,' said Hermione as gently as she could, 'it's not that bad.'

'Are you out of your mind?!' shrieked not only Harry, but Ron too. Hermione quickly leaned away from her two best friends while Ginny watched the three dazedly with a hint of amusement on her face.

'Of course it's that bad! It's _Malfoy_!' hollered Ron while Harry exclaimed simultaneously, 'I can't be engaged to Malfoy, Hermione! I refuse! And I'm going to get this thing off my finger if it's the last thing I do!'

'Alright, _alright_!' yelled Hermione rather uncharacteristically and finally, her best friends calmed down though the both of them were breathing hard like wounded rhinoceroses. 'It _is_ a bad thing; there, are you happy now?'

Harry and Ron both treated her to icy glares.

'Thought not. Anyway, you must please stop shouting, Harry; else, you're going to get nowhere.'

A hint of shame grazed the other girl's face. 'Sorry,' she mumbled, 'I dunno what came over me.'

Hermione shook her head slightly. 'Why does Malfoy rile you up so much?' she murmured mostly to herself.

'What?'

'Oh, never mind.'

Harry gave her a suspicious look before returning to the problem at hand. 'OK,' she said with forced tranquillity, 'I suppose that I need an explanation about this ring and this ... engagement to ... well ...' she trailed off, reluctant to say the name of her fiancé. She flinched at the thought of addressing Malfoy Jr as her "fiancé" and decided that she would never ever call him that.

It was Ginny who supplied the answers to the young heroine. 'It appeared in the papers a couple of months ago. Apparently the Malfoy family have enchanted engagement rings which very few pureblood wizarding families have and ...' The youngest Weasley proceeded to explain how the rings worked and everything else she had read from the _Daily Prophet_ including some details her own mother had told her sometime earlier about such rings. When she finished, a long silence stretched while the Girl Who Lived struggled to stomach all the information she had gained within the short space of fifteen minutes.

'Let me get this straight,' she muttered finally, 'these weird rings are enchanted to find the perfect wife or husband based on a person's wishes?'

'Yes,' answered Ginny cautiously, wondering whether this calm exterior Harry was suddenly displaying was all but a facade and she would go supernovae on them again.

'And the Malfoys have a pair of these rings?'

'Yes.'

'And he has finally wished upon these rings to find his ... _wife_?'

'Yeah ...'

'And this ring came to me; but why? Why me?'

'Well,' Ginny chose her words carefully, 'obviously your personality and character matched Malfoy's description of a suitable wife.'

Harry snorted. The day that Malfoy would ever want someone like her was the day that it snowed in Hell. However, she decided not to make that particular comment and instead asked, 'But he doesn't know who has the ring yet?'

'No.'

'But he's looking for me ...?'

'Well, not really. I mean, the circumstances are such that he would be forced to wait for the girl to come out and show him that she got his ring. He wouldn't exactly know _where_ to look for her, now would he?'

Harry perked up slightly. 'So, if I don't tell him, then he would never know?'

'Basically, yeah ... what are you planning, Harry Potter?' Ginny looked at her brother's best friend with narrowed eyes.

The Chosen One grinned disarmingly. 'I'm planning on not telling him, ever. There is no way that I'm going to get married to Draco Malfoy!'

'Good plan,' said Ron brightly while Ginny rolled her eyes. As for Hermione, she leaned across her seat and looked Harry in the eye very severely.

'That "plan" is not going to get you anywhere, Hariah.'

'What are you talking about?' Harry leaned back comfortably, completely at ease now. 'I'd be free of him, wouldn't I?'

'No, you wouldn't.'

'And why not?'

'Because you can't remove that ring from your finger, nor can anyone else. And as long as it is on you, you're legally his fiancée and you cannot get married or even have a relationship with anyone else. The law and the magic that binds you to Malfoy won't allow it. So unless you wish to die single and a virgin, I suggest that you reconsider your master plan.'

Harry slumped in her seat. In her ecstasy of thinking that she had found a way out of the engagement, she had utterly forgotten that the ring was stuck on her finger. _Damn it, she's right_.

'Way to burst her bubble,' Ron commented dryly to the bushy haired girl upon seeing the forlorn look on Harry's face. Hermione frowned at him but chose not to dignify his words with a reply.

'I have to get this thing off,' Harry said suddenly. 'I can't walk around with this ring on my finger forever and I sure as Hell am not about to tell Malfoy that I have his stupid ring. And I most certainly shall _not_ marry him!'

'Hear, hear,' Ron said encouragingly.

'Please, you guys,' Harry looked at her friends pleadingly, 'I need your help to remove it.'

'We're with you, mate,' Ron said at once.

'Stop it, Ron; you're just getting her hopes high.'

'But, Hermione –'

'_No_, Ron.'

Harry stared at the girl genius of their generation. 'I thought you said you'd support me no matter what my decision is?' she asked, sounding hurt.

Hermione had the grace to look slightly ashamed and guilty. 'I'm sorry, Harry, I really am but it's just not possible to remove it. We could all yank at the ring or try magic on it but the enchantment is much too powerful. It is simply impossible to just take it off.'

'But there must be a way! There is always a way.'

'Well, there is one way,' Ginny piped up.

Harry turned to her desperately. 'Yes?'

'You're not gonna like it.'

'I don't care.'

'I read in the paper that the only one who can remove it is ... well, your fiancé.' Ginny looked at Harry apologetically. 'There's no other way.'

With a scowl, Harry turned away from her. 'I think I'll pass on that one,' she groused, crossing her arms. 'And stop calling him my "fiancé".'

'But he _is_ your –'

'No, he is not. I don't believe that this is a proper engagement and I refuse to believe he and I are engaged. All that I care about is just taking this ring off.'

Hermione sighed tiredly. 'Whatever your beliefs, Harry, you are engaged – and legally, too. You can't change that just by denying it.'

Harry glared at her. 'Well, then, please help me to call off this so-called engagement,' she forced through gritted teeth.

'Harry, I've told you, it's just not possible to remove that ring! Else, don't you think that I'd have already done it for you?'

'OK, this has gone too far,' Ron said abruptly, bringing the argument to a halt. He held out his hand to Harry. 'Give me your hand, mate.'

Feeling curious, Harry meekly obliged. She watched as Ron took her hand carefully in his and raised it to his eyes, inspecting the ring closely, but with a caution that implied that it was a bomb that might blow up in his face any second. He turned her hand this way and that, eying the ring suspiciously for a long moment before letting the tip of his finger just graze over the hexagonal diamond. Harry rolled her eyes impatiently.

'Trust me when I say that it won't bite you, Ron,' she said sarcastically.

'I'm just checking,' he said defensively before looking back down at the ring. After a moment's hesitation, he began to tug at it, gently at first, but then harder.

'Do you think that I haven't tried that before?'

Ron changed tactics and tried to twist the ring around her finger. Harry tried not to wince at the slight pain. 'Tried that, too, Ron.'

'What about soap? Or grease? Or - ?'

'Doesn't work,' Harry interrupted heavily. 'Even my spit refused to do the trick.' She ignored the irked expressions that crossed the faces of Hermione and Ginny.

'Magic?' Ron suggested, raising his eyebrows at her.

Harry slowly shook her head. 'No ... but, what spells can we try? I can't think of any that would be powerful enough ...'

'Accio ring!' Ron pointed his wand at the finger; unsurprisingly, nothing happened.

'Ron,' Hermione said finally in a gentle, but firm voice, 'magic won't work on a ring of that sort. The enchantments cast upon them are very strong and can't be removed by such simple spells ...'

Ron was not listening, however. He looked thoughtfully at the small ring for a moment before an expression of grim determination settled on his face. 'Right,' he muttered, 'I can think of only one way ... Hermione, what did you say was that spell you used to free Sirius from the tower in third year?'

'Hmm ... I think it was _bombarda_ - wait, Ron! Why did you -?!'

Harry realised what Ron had in mind at the same time as Hermione did. 'Ron, what the hell - _no_!' She tried to yank her hand out of his grasp, but heck, he was _strong_!

'There's nothing for it, Harry,' he said grimly, aiming his wand at the ring, all the while keeping a firm hold on her hand. 'We're gonna have to blast the thing off!'

'Ron,' Harry said desperately, fruitlessly pulling at her hand, 'I've already considered _diffindo_ and _reducto_, but I decided that I like my finger enough that I don't want to lose it! Somehow, I doubt that _bombarda_ will leave my arm, let alone my _finger_, intact!'

'But if it can free you of that ring, it'd be worth it, wouldn't it? Unless ... you _want_ to spend the rest of your life married to Malfoy and have a dozen or two of his little blond, smirking babies ...?'

He had said enough. In less than a second, Harry had snatched her wand from her pocket and aimed it at her hand, and was just about yell, '_Bombarda_!' when two hands reached over and bonked her a good one on the head.

'Ow!' Harry groaned, rubbing the back of her skull, barely registering the fact that her wand had been hastily removed from her numb fingers, and that her hand was now free thanks to Hermione who had taken the liberty of hitting Ron on the back of his head as well.

'What was that for?' Both Ron and Harry snapped at the same time, glaring at Hermione and - in Harry's case - Ginny.

'Because you're acting like a pair of morons!' Hermione shot back.

Ginny merely snorted and muttered something that sounded like, 'Understatement, much?'

'Honestly, blowing up her hand?' Hermione continued loudly, looking back and forth between her two best friends. 'I've never heard something so idiotic!'

'But Hermione,' Ron said earnestly, 'we have to remove it and this is the only way!'

The brown-haired girl rolled her eyes. 'Don't be ridiculous. Of course there is another way. Harry can just simply go up to Malfoy and ask him to remove the ring.'

'No way!' Harry and Ron said loudly.

'I'm not approaching him with a ten foot broomstick,' Harry added, 'and certainly not to tell him that I am his fian – I mean, to tell him that I got his ring. Forget about Malfoy for a second, can you imagine the rumours this'll start if it gets out?'

'Harry, you've never been one to care so much about rumours.'

'I will if they involve me and Malfoy in a romantic situation!'

Ron gagged.

'You're hopeless,' Hermione shook her head while Ginny watched on, amused.

Harry looked pleadingly at Hermione again. 'Mione, please help me. Yes, I know that you say it can't be done, but isn't that only what the _Daily Prophet_ reported? Surely there must be more to these rings. There can be another way to remove it; you know there can be! We just have to find it. Please, Mione, please.' Harry looked at her friend with sincere eyes.

Hermione sighed. 'Fine, when we get to Hogwarts, I'll see what I can find in the library. But I'm not guaranteeing anything, mind.'

'Oh, thank you, Hermione!'

'And what if there really is no other way?' Ginny asked curiously.

'Then Harry will just have to tell Malfoy,' Hermione answered matter-of-factly, making Harry grimace.

'Well, I say that we leave that as the last resort,' Ron spoke up firmly.

Hermione rolled her eyes for what must have been the umpteenth time that day. 'At least tell me that that part comes _before_ you subject her poor finger to deadly combustion,' she said dryly.

'It'll come after,' Ron said stubbornly and a part of Harry could not help but agree with him.

'You're incorrigible. Well, Harry, until such a time that we finally find an answer on how to remove that thing, we first need to plan a way to hide it. It won't be long till someone notices that you've got a diamond engagement ring on your finger, much less a Malfoy one. But it won't be easy because I don't think any magic will work on it, so invisibility spells are out of the question. We'll have to do it manually ...'

'Hmm ...' Harry contemplated the problem, 'I've got an idea. Come, help me, Ron.'

With Ron's aid, Harry soon had her trunk down on the train floor. She opened it and rummage through her belongings until she finally found a pair of thin, black gloves. Taking the left one, she quickly performed a Severing Charm and removed the fingers of the glove but took care to leave some stubs, each of them about half an inch or so in length. Harry slipped her left hand in it and was pleased to see that the stub of the ring finger perfectly obstructed the engagement ring from view. Grinning, she slammed the lid of the trunk close and Ron heaved it back onto the hold.

'Impressive,' Ginny remarked, eyeing Harry's hand. 'You can't even see it.'

'People won't suspect, will they?' Hermione looked at the fingerless glove with critical eyes.

'I don't think so,' Harry shrugged. 'People don't often look at hands, do they? Besides, the glove is black and will probably be camouflaged when I wear my robes.'

'Hmm,' Hermione looked slightly skeptical but made no further comment.

'And if anyone asks,' Ron added flopping down onto his seat, 'Harry can just make up an excuse.'

'Yeah ... but I hope no one does. My brain has a tendency to go blank when I have to make up lies out of the blue.'

'Which is just as well,' Hermione replied crisply. 'Lying is a horrid habit.'

As their conversation turned to more normal topics, the case of the ring was erased gradually from Harry's mind. Soon afterwards, Neville and Luna turned up; they had been sidetracked, they informed them, by some other seventh year Gryffindors. As they continued to chat and catch up with each other, and eat when the lunch lady with the food trolley arrived, Harry completely forgot about her newest piece of jewellery, her engagement and her fiancé. She was to be reminded of them harshly later on.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was one of the few people that Draco actually considered a friend. He was a recent one, but a friend nevertheless. Before, there had been Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but they had never been _friends;_ more like bodyguards. Or minions, depending on how you looked at it. Draco had never truly shared any of his personal life with them. He had only allowed them to follow him around because a) they did whatever he wanted, b) their fathers and his father had been friends and fellow Death Eaters back in the day, and c) they always proved useful in a fight, especially if it involved fists.

Then the war had begun, ensued and before the end, Crabbe had died in the fiendfyre that he had created himself; and though Draco had not cared for either of his bodyguards much, his death had affected him; but not as much as it affected Goyle who had been much closer to Crabbe. Contact between Draco and Goyle had decreased and finally fallen to zero and Draco had been all alone, without so much as a bodyguard or a mere acquaintance ... until the Zabinis came along.

They had been completely neutral in the war, opting for neither the Light nor the Dark, but choosing to blend in with what could be called the shadowy side of Grey, where they could offer their loyalty to whichever side claimed victory in the battle. A true sign of the Zabinis: always choosing the path where they could be sure of survival and no true enemies. And when the Light had won the war, they had duly pledged their allegiance to that side, thus anchoring their safety.

When the Malfoys had changed allegiances, the Zabinis had come to stand by them, recognising them to be useful allies. An acquaintanceship had been formed between the two wizarding families that had slowly morphed into something more until it became a steadfast friendship. Draco had learned to trust Blaise just as his parents learned to trust Madam Zabini, and soon, Blaise had turned from a mere fellow-Slytherin-with-whom-I-share-my-dormitory to a true friend. He understood Draco and Draco understood him.

This was why Draco was currently telling Blaise everything concerning his engagement in greater detail and also trying to explain why he was so eager to find his fiancée as they trudged through the corridors of the train which had stopped at Hogsmeade Station.

'It is strange; at first, the very thought of marrying so young was positively revolting. But afterwards, I've become rather taken up with the idea.'

'I figured that much, Draco. But what I cannot understand is why. How can one change their mind so suddenly?'

Draco flushed slightly, feeling a little embarrassed, but he answered nevertheless, dropping his voice so that the students around them, most of whom had taken up making doe-eyes at him, would not hear him, 'Ever since I began to see that the Dark Lord was insane and my ideas about blood and power began to change, it's like as if all the other ideas and views I've had of this world changed too. Money, power, status, blood and everything else, they did not seem so important. And the surprising thing is that I think my parents' views of them have also changed just like mine. Material just seemed to become ... immaterial, if you know what I mean.'

Blaise raised his eyebrows at him as they squeezed past a group of nervous "new" first years as they continued to make their way towards the crowded doorway. 'That still does not answer my question.'

'How do I explain it? I suppose that you could say that before my change of heart, if I had to find a girl, I would want no one less than gorgeous, with a lot of money and status, a Slytherin and also who is pure-blooded. But after my views turned the exact opposite, I've always wondered what it would be like to be with someone who I actually care about, who would truly love me, with whom I could be happy as opposed to being with a beautiful, wealthy girl only to boost my status.'

'And I'm guessing that you wished upon the ring to find such a girl, did you?' Blaise grinned rather mischeivously.

'Yes,' muttered Draco, his pale cheeks going pink, 'I did. And now that the ring has found her, I really want to know who she is; I want to find the girl who is exactly the sort of person that I really want ... find her, and claim her as my own.'

Draco realised with a start that he had once again made quite a sappy speech; his brain seriously needed some bleach if he were to stop spouting such rubbish! He quickly glanced at Blaise and was not surprised to see the smirk that was curling his lips. Draco scowled.

'Don't you dare mock me, Zabini; else I'll personally make sure that you regret it.'

Blaise chuckled amiably as they finally reached the doorway that opened to a dark, cold night. 'Alright; it's just that I did not expect you to be such a romantic under that cool Malfoy exterior.'

Draco glared at him before turning his back and descending from the Hogwarts Express. 'I will have you know, Blaise, that I am most certainly not a rom –'

'Draco, watch out!'

Startled, the young aristocrat turned around to ask what Blaise meant. But he could not even get a word out before he heard a series of loud crashes, a pained yell and a warning shout and then something crashed right on top of him. Instinct kicked in at once and Draco took a step back with his right leg to keep his balance and his arms automatically went around what had fallen on him – or rather, who.

His eyes, which had closed, shot open and his breath caught in his chest as he found himself staring straight into familiar pools of emerald green.

* * *

'Strange, isn't it,' muttered Ron as they made their way through all the students to get off the train, 'to return to Hogwarts?'

'What'd you mean, Ron?' asked Ginny, throwing her brother a confused look.

'I dunno ... it's just, we're back, but it doesn't feel like coming back to Hogwarts; I can't explain it.'

Harry personally did not need Ron to explain what he meant; she knew. Before, coming to Hogwarts had always been pleasant and filled with happy memories ... and now, everything had changed. There was no Dumbledore, so many former students had been killed in the war including a few under-aged ones, and the place would be filled with the memories of that bittersweet night when they had fought Voldemort from dusk till dawn. So many things had happened ... Ron was right; it felt strange, perturbing even.

No one else said anything to Ron's words (except for Luna who hummed Celestina Warbeck's "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" under her breath) when they got the gist of what he was saying; there really was nothing that one could say to that.

In an obvious effort to change the topic, Neville piped up, 'Wonder if McGonagall is going to continue teaching Transfiguration now that she's been made headmistress? Or do you think that they've found a new teacher for that?'

'I don't know,' Hermione answered with a shrug. 'I haven't heard anything like that.'

Silence fell upon them again. Soon, they were within sight of the door that was, as always, crowded with students. Harry led the way, 'politely' pushing her way through everyone, eager to leave the suffocative atmosphere of the mobbed train. She was almost at the door when she heard Ron and Neville both shout out at her in alarmed, warning tones.

More than a little surprised, she turned her head back to see what was happening while her body reacted instinctively and moved to get out of the way of anything that could harm her but – too late. On first turning her head, Harry had already seen the girl slip and fall forward, the heavy stack of books she was carrying falling to the ground with many a crash, and her arms flailing wildly to regain her balance. She now saw the girl crash against another girl who happened to be right behind Harry, making her fall forwards too –

Next thing Harry knew, something slammed heavily against her back making her cry out with pain and she experienced a sensation of flying as the impact sent her hurtling forward out of the train. Harry squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to feel the hard roughness of the ground against her front at any moment, but that moment never came. Instead, she felt something warm and lean cushion her fall; there was a winded grunt and she felt arms going around her and she realised with heightened embarrassment that she had fallen not on the ground, but on someone.

She opened her eyes, ready to apologise, but saw that the other person had his eyes closed and she worried at once that her fall had injured the person. Harry leaned her head back slightly so as to properly see the blurred features of the one who had broken her fall, but it was completely unnecessary. Next moment, the eyes had opened and Harry found herself gazing with shock into liquid mercury orbs that she could recognise anywhere.

_Oh no, not him; anyone but him_.

Time seemed to come to a standstill and everything else blurred and paled into insignificance as Harry and Malfoy stared at each other, both of them speechless. She could feel shivers running down her back when the realisation of how close they were came to her as Malfoy's warm breath fanned over her flushed face; they were mere inches apart. Harry also grew vaguely aware that her arms had become looped about his neck, probably when she had fallen on him and her cheeks grew redder. It did not help that Malfoy was still holding her up and she was pressed flush against him; Harry could easily feel the heat radiating off him through the fabric of their robes.

Growing very conscious of how much she was blushing, Harry tried to look away from him but it was nigh impossible; her eyes were drawn to his, like the ocean to the moon ... and how like the moon his eyes were! She had always known they had been a gleaming greyish in colour, much like Sirius' eyes (no wonders, there; they were from the same family), but Harry had never really bothered to look; which was probably why she had never noticed the soft shades of silver in the irises and the light, granite grey that outlined them ... and right around the pupils were the lightest shades of blue she had ever seen. Harry gazed deeply into his eyes which seemed almost fathomless, marvelling at the beauty she had never noticed before. They were almost like sparkling diamonds ... just like the hidden diamond that rested on her finger right now...

Diamond...

...diamond engagement ring...

...engaged to Draco Malfoy...

...Draco Malfoy...

_Fiancé. _

And she abruptly came to her senses and full realisation of the kind of position she was in hit her like the ever clichéd ton of bricks – not to mention what the scene would look like to watchful eyes. Speaking of which...

Someone wolf-whistled and a few giggles were heard, and all the background scenes and noises that had seemingly disappeared from around them both were brought to point-black focus. A quick glance showed that many students had stopped to watch them, eager to see what would happen next; it was not everyday that one got to see the two top rivals of their school, who hated each other with a passion, fall into a very suggestive – not to mention romantic – position. Harry cursed inwardly for her bad luck.

Her eyes returned to Malfoy who, too, had noticed the small crowd gathered around them. He gave her an unreadable look and Harry almost expected him to drop her; but, to her immense surprise, he set her down rather gently on the ground, those intense silvery orbs of his fixed on hers all the while. She quickly dropped her arms from his neck and he removed his from her waist. A sudden blast of cold air enveloped her as he stepped back, taking the warmth of his body away from her. For a second, she almost wished that she was in his arms again, but next moment, she chided herself for even thinking such thoughts. This was _Malfoy_! She had no right to wish that she was in Draco Malfoy's arms, not even if she had his bloody engagement ring...!

_Oh no, the ring! _Harry immediately slipped her left hand into the folds of her robes so he would not see the ring, conveniently forgetting that it was already hidden by the black glove.

Malfoy stared at her for a moment longer before turning to walk away, followed by a smirking Blaise Zabini who Harry had not noticed up until that point. And Harry, being Harry, called a soft 'Sorry' after her rival, recalling with mortification the way in which she had nearly crushed the life out of him. She immediately regretted apologising, though. Knowing Malfoy, he would probably just ignore her or sneer at her and make her feel like a fool for apologising. But her arch-enemy shocked her for a second time that night by actually pausing and turning around to give her a curt nod to acknowledge her apology before hurrying away again. Harry gaped after him; how many more shocks could she take in one day?

With a shake of her head, Harry turned back to the train, pointedly ignoring the hushed whispers and snickers that were still emitting from the on looking crowd. Her eyes were met with the site of Ginny stuffing her knuckles into her mouth to stifle her laughter, Ron looking somewhere between clubbed in the head and ready to hurl, Hermione smirking at her with a knowing look in her brown eyes, Luna busy counting the stars in the night sky and Neville looking downright confused.

Harry glared at them in annoyance. 'What?' she snapped.

* * *

**A/N: ::bangs head on wall:: Ugh, I feel so ashamed! ... I think I just took the "describing Draco's periodic-table eyes cliche" to a whole new level ...!! ::bangs head some more:: Ah, but what the heck! It was fun to write and I _did_ warn you about cliches! LOL XD**

**As for the spell that Ron mentioned, '_bombarda_' - I borrowed that from Prisoner of Azkaban movie; that spell is not mentioned in any of the books. It's not mine and it belongs to ... Rowling, maybe? I dunno.  
**

**On another note, the next chapter is sort of like Part 2 of this one 'cause it takes place in the same night. I seriously considered putting the two up as one chapter to make the story go faster, but then I saw how freaking long that was so I cut 'em in two. But don't worry, I'll post the next one _very soon_. Maybe not in the next five minutes, but still _SOON_, OK? :)**

**Also, looking back on the previous chapters, I just realised how long-winded I am (OK, so I've known that for sometime now considering the ridiculously long one-shots I've posted, but still!), so y'all be warned: this fic will be a slow romance, so please be patient. I will throw in Draco/Harry interactions here and there, but those two are a duo of blockheads drowning in "The Nile", if you get my drift. :P**

**COMING _REALLY_ SOON: _CHAPTER SIX - Lions and Snakes Can Be ... Friends?_** **0.o**


	6. Lions and Snakes Can Be Friends?

****

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

A/N: See, I told y'all that I'll update soon, didn't I? (Yes, people, an update within 48 hours counts as a _fast_ one in my books, so don't complain. ;P)

Also a shout-out to all those anonymous reviewers I haven't been able to get back to: THANK YOU, people!! Know that I read and appreciate all your comments and I love you all even if I can't reply, K?

That goes especially to one "_-soaring high-_", whose review made my entire night and bestowed more compliments than I deserve, I'm sure. XD ::hugs::

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: LIONS AND SNAKES CAN BE ... FRIENDS?**

'Not a word, Zabini,' Draco growled warningly, 'not one word.'

Blaise chuckled in amusement, but thankfully did not comment on that little 'moment' Draco had just had with Potter. But knowing Blaise Zabini, his silence on the topic would not last forever; Draco would have to face the questions and/or comments later on and there would be no turning them away. Blaise was extremely ... persuasive.

Draco hugged his cloak closer about his body as he hurried towards the school carriages, trying to force his own mind not to dwell on what had just taken place. Of all the people that could have fallen on top of him, it just had to be Potter against all odds! Not that he knew why he was feeling so bothered about that; Potter fell on him, he put her down, he walked away, end of story. So, why were those few, but seemingly long moments lingering on in his mind? It was not like he even liked her at all!

Only, during that time when he had seen those jade green eyes of hers so close, he had completely forgotten about hating her. Her eyes had been so mesmerising. A thousand emeralds on fire – those were the only words that could describe those enchanting orbs of Hariah Potter. Even through the very obvious surprise and embarrassment in her eyes, he had been able to see her fiery, charismatic nature in them, along with a haunted innocence that seemed to speak of uncountable terrors that had plagued a pure heart. Such a hypnotizing, enigmatic gaze she had and Draco had almost drowned in it – until the onlooking crowd had interrupted the moment. He was not sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

'We're here,' said Blaise, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. With a shake of his head, Draco pushed away all thoughts of Harry Potter out of his mind and tried to concentrate on the present. He realised that they had finally reached the carriages. Spying an empty one, he made to lead Blaise to it when he suddenly noticed what was pulling it and stopped dead. The half-Italian behind him barely managed to halt his steps to prevent walking right into the Malfoy heir.

'What is it, Draco?' Blaise asked, looking puzzled.

Draco was silent for several seconds before he whispered, 'So, that's what they look like!'

'What's "they"?'

Draco did not answer this time, but continued to stare straight ahead at the creature that was harnessed to the carriage he had been about to enter. For the very first time, Draco Malfoy was seeing a Thestral.

It was strange to look at what with the flesh-less black skin clinging to every bone of the horse-like body, yet the creature was hauntingly beautiful at second glance; the pupil-less eyes glowed white in the darkness, the strong wings were folded close about its body and the tail and mane were of messy black hair that gleamed in the moonlight ... much like the messy black hair of a certain seventh year Gryffindor that had just taken a nasty fall on top of Draco...

'It's a Thestral, am I right?' Blaise's voice shook him from his thoughts.

Draco gave his head a light shake before nodding mutely.

'You can see them now?' his friend asked quietly.

'I saw the former Muggle Studies teacher being murdered by the Dark Lord,' Draco answered shortly.

Blaise looked at him expressionlessly,but did not answer. What did one say to another's declaration of witnessing a murder?

Draco sighed. 'Let's go,' he muttered and stepped into the carriage, tearing his eyes away from the magical creature. Blaise followed in silence.

As the carriage began to move, the blond leaned his head back against the carriage wall and allowed his eyes to close, willing away all unpleasant memories from his mind. At the present, Draco Malfoy only wanted to concentrate on making his life take a turn for the better – such as finally finding his elusive fiancée.

_Where could she be?_

* * *

'Whoa, am I hearing this right?' Neville exclaimed. '_You_ got his ring? _Malfoy's_ ring? Malfoy's _engagement _ring?!'

'Geez, Neville, why don't you climb to the top of the North Tower and shout a little louder?' suggested Harry in a sarcastic hiss as they climbed the steps to the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. Not surprisingly, the whole engagement deal had been revealed to Neville and Luna during the carriage ride to Hogwarts; Ginny, Harry had discovered, had a staggeringly big mouth when she was in the mood.

'Sorry,' mumbled Neville, flushing slightly, 'but, it's just that ... well, I know how those weird rings work, finding the person you want and everything ... but how in the world did _you_ get _Malfoy's_ ring? '

'Neville, mate,' Ron said seriously, slinging a confidential arm around the other boy's shoulder, 'that's what we'd all like to know.'

'Oh, honestly, you two!' said Hermione as they entered the Hall. 'It's not the end of the world! In fact, I think it's rather cute.'

Harry, who had been busy gazing around the Entrance Hall which looked the same as it ever did without any signs of the damage caused in the battle that had taken place inside it just months ago, took a few seconds to fully register what Hermione had just said. 'Cute?' Harry stared at the bushy-haired girl in mild surprise. 'What do you mean "cute"?'

Hermione flushed slightly. She had obviously not meant for Harry to hear those words. 'Oh, nothing.'

'Hermione ...' Harry looked at her with narrowed eyes. Hermione looked back at her innocently with a demure smile on her face.

Ginny exchanged a glance with the brown-eyed girl and began to giggle suddenly.

'Oh, I give up!' Ron, who had been watching with raised eyebrows, threw up his hands and almost knocked over a passing third year. 'I'll never understand girls! What the bloody hell are you two talking about?'

'Nothing,' Ginny and Hermione giggled again.

Harry stared at them, nonplussed. To be honest, she was more concerned about Hermione's behaviour than what her words meant; giggling girlishly and saying the word "cute" was about as un-Hermione-like as one could get.

'Are you alright?' she asked uncertainly.

'And what's cute?' added Neville with a frown. Even Luna, who had been trying to swat away invisible Blubbering Humdingers the entire time, had begun to look interested in their conversation.

'Nothing!'

Harry sighed. 'I don't think I even want to know,' she muttered before heading to the large doors that opened into the magnificent Great Hall which was lit, as usual, by thousands of floating candles. Her friends followed, Hermione and Ginny still giggling like love struck schoolgirls much to her chagrin.

Heads turned to follow Harry and her present company as they made their way to the Gryffindor table on the far side of the Hall. She ignored the hushed whispers and clamours that broke out in her wake and gave her Gryffindor friends a brilliant smile when she got to the table. With a vague wave, Luna broke away from them to join her fellow Ravenclaws.

'Hey, guys,' a sandy-haired boy grinned at them, 'it's great to see you back here!'

'Thanks Seamus,' Ron answered before plopping down on Harry's other side as she sat down beside the Irishman.

Seamus immediately turned to his best friend, Dean Thomas, who was seated next to him. 'They came! Pay up, man.'

The dark-skinned Londoner grimaced before reluctantly handing over a considerable amount of silver Sickles to the Irishman. Harry, Neville and the two Weasleys watched the exchange with amusement while Hermione pursed her lips in disapproval.

'You were betting on whether we would come back or not?' Ron asked with a grin as Ginny laughed.

'Yup,' Seamus grinned while Dean frowned irately at him. 'Since all three of you are big heroes now and everything, we wondered if you'd come back to your little friends.' He winked good-humouredly at them.

With an amused shake of her head, Harry turned away from him to observe the High Table. The sight of familiar faces greeted her: Professors Flitwick, Vector, Sinistra, Slughorn, even Trelawney was present, as well as others whose names she still did not know. So was Professor McGonagall, only she was seated in the very centre. The sight startled Harry slightly before she remembered that McGonagall was the headmistress now. She frowned slightly; it was peculiar to see her Transfiguration teacher sitting in the headmistress' chair and it made her chest clench painfully when she reminded herself that she would never again see the majestic figure of Albus Dumbledore sitting in the centre of the High Table.

Emotional pain shot through her heart at the thought. Harry had seen Dumbledore being thrown off the Astronomy Tower with her own eyes and she had attended his funeral; but it was the picture of McGonagall in the chair that Dumbledore used to occupy that truly seemed to make his death feel real.

_He's really gone_.

She was shaken from her gloomy thoughts and memories by the sound of the doors being opened. Turning her head, Harry saw the new batch of first years being lead into the Great Hall by the Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout. A quick glance showed her that Professor Flitwick had already set the three-legged stool with the old, patched and dirty-looking Sorting Hat on it before the High Table, and that Hagrid, the first friend she had ever made, was sitting down in his chair; obviously his job of escorting the newcomers to the school over the lake had been completed. With a smile, Harry waved at his giant form and he waved back enthusiastically when he saw her, winking at her at the same time.

In next to no time, the new first years were assembled before the Sorting Hat; the looks on their faces varied from nervous to 'Oh-my-God-I'm-going-to-die'. Silence reigned in the Great Hall for a few seconds as every eye focussed on the frayed Hat on the little stool; and then, a mouth opened near the brim of the Hat and it began to sing.

Harry would never remember the exact words of the song for her brain felt as if it had been stunned into paralysis when the Hat had finished, such was her surprise; but she would never forget the message the song had given.

The Hat unabashedly sang of their recent victory over the Dark and about the many lives lost. It sang in detail about the battle that had taken place right inside the walls of Hogwarts and how the fall of Voldemort had been brought about (Harry was extremely glad that the Hat did not mention her name; however, many students turned to look at her during that part of the song). Then it sang of the qualities of the four houses, the brave and courageous lions, the loyal and faithful badgers, the wise and intellectual ravens, and the cunning and ambitious snakes. However, it was the next part of the song that surprised most of the students into silence.

The Hat sang of how each and every student in the Hall were exactly the same despite their differences; that they were all equal to one another in every aspect of the word; how every wizard and witch were human and in no way were superior to another; how unity was the only way to overcome evil; and finally, it sang of the importance of friendship to exist between the Houses, emphasising that Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were nothing but names that were indications of their abilities, but not of who they were. '_Stand united, my friends,_' the Hat sang exuberantly, '_and peace shall never end._'

The silence that followed the song was one of the longest in all of Hogwarts' history. The students only began to applaud when the teachers started, and even they looked more than a little taken aback at the topic of the song and the bluntness with which the Hat had sung it.

'Overkill,' Ron muttered as he clapped slowly, still staring at the Sorting Hat.

The rest of his friends murmured their agreement except for Harry who was lost in thought. She was thinking about the part of the song where the Hat had sung about their Houses being only an indication of their abilities, but not of who they were. The words brought back a memory from long ago, back when she had been in second year and had saved Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets; she remembered with vivid clarity the words Albus Dumbledore had said to her in his office that frightful night: 'It's not our _abilities_ that show what we truly are; it is our _choices_.'

Harry shook her head slightly. Only now, after having made many hard choices and witnessing others doing the same, could she appreciate the wisdom and truth of those words. People had been led to believe that the brave and courageous Gryffindors were the ultimate good guys while the cunning and ambitious Slytherins were the big bad snakes. And yet, look at Peter Pettigrew, who had been in Gryffindor but had had the cold heart to betray his best friends to Voldemort, all for power and protection. And look at Regulus Black, a Slytherin, who had tried to stop Voldemort at the cost of his own life. In the end, it had been their _choices_ that had shown their true colours.

Gryffindor and Slytherin, along with other two, were only just names, Harry realised; they were nothing to judge a person with.

_And it took me seven long years to finally see it_, Harry thought rather sorrowfully, recalling the scorn and mistrust with which she had treated Slytherins for a very long time.

'So, should we get all matey-matey with the snakes?' Seamus suddenly asked with a shit-eating grin on his face as he gazed at the Slytherin table, which noticeably had the fewest number of students present.

Harry turned back to her friends.

'What?' spluttered Ron, shocked. 'Are you serious?'

Seamus shrugged, still leering at the Slytherins. 'The Hat said so, didn't it?'

'I think it's a good idea,' Hermione said crisply. 'We could do with some inter-house unity around here. All this anger and fights just because we have some absurd idea that _all_ Slytherins are bad and them hating us in return because of a millennium old grudge is pointless! We should all try to accept a person for what they are and be friends without judging them first.'

'Hermione –!' Ron began to protest but the girl cut him off.

'Honestly, Ronald, face it! Every time a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin comes up, someone gets hurt! Just because that person happened to be a Slytherin or a Gryffindor! And to think that Quidditch games were introduced to Hogwarts for the sole reason of encouraging friendly relations between Houses! Seems kind of pointless when you consider the fact that Quidditch only seems to encourage rivalry between the Houses, don't you think?'

Ron scowled, but her words rang with too much truth for him to argue back.

'She's right,' Ginny murmured thoughtfully. 'In fact, I think that if the rest of the Houses hadn't shunned Slytherin so much before, maybe we might not have lost so many Slytherins to the Dark Side during the War. Maybe a lot of them might have been on our side.'

'I guess,' muttered Dean, watching the table on the other side of the Hall keenly. Neville nodded in agreement.

Ron was still frowning. Apparently, the idea of being all buddy-buddy with Slytherin snakes was not something easy for him to get used to.

'Harry, what do you think?' he finally asked, looking around at Harry desperately.

The raven-haired girl looked down at the table, tracing the outline of her golden goblet with a finger. It was a long moment before she finally spoke, 'I think that, after the war, we've found out that not all Slytherins are bad, just like not all Gryffindors or Ravenclaws or even Hufflepuffs are good.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'So you agree with them? We should be chums with the _Slytherins_?'

Hermione rolled her eyes at the red-head, but made no comment.

There was another moment of silence as Harry continued to finger her goblet thoughtfully. 'We should stop fighting with them, at least,' she muttered finally. 'I guess they could be useful allies if we befriend them ... even they deserve a chance.'

'Well said!' Grinning, Seamus nudged Harry with his elbow.

Ron still looked slightly skeptical, but Hermione leaned over and breathed in his ear, loud enough for Harry to hear, 'Think of it this way, Ron, being friends with Slytherins can be a really good thing right now.'

Ron frowned. 'How?'

Hermione looked pointedly at Harry and Harry looked back at her, puzzled. Ron looked between them for a few seconds with a confused look on his face before he understood.

'Oh, I get it! Yeah, it's because Harry is Malfoy's fian - !'

Harry's eyes widened when she realised what her best friend was about to say and smacked him upside the head to shut him up. 'Not so loud, Ron, damn it!'

'Sorry,' he whispered, rubbing the back of his head tenderly.

'And don't call me his fiancée,' she added in a rather petulant voice.

'Take it easy, mate.'

Harry shook her head irritably at him before scowling at Hermione. 'And what do you mean that being friendly with the snakes will be a good thing now?'

Hermione smiled prettily at her. 'I meant, what with you being Malfoy's ... you-know-what' – Harry narrowed her eyes at her best friend warningly – 'it would be much better and easier for us if we were on good terms with the Slytherins if ... you know ...'

Harry stared at her in disbelief. 'You mean ... if I end up ... _married_ to him?'

'Exactly,' Hermione grinned, looking relieved that her friend had understood immediately. 'That way, there will be no hostility between us all and it wouldn't feel awkward to have Malfoy around and you being Mrs Malfoy and – '

'_Hermione_,' Harry hissed angrily, ignoring Ron who looked positively sick at the idea of his best friend being "Mrs Malfoy", 'that is _not_ going to happen!'

'You never know, Harry, you can never know.'

The green-eyed girl was about to open her mouth to retort when the plates before them filled with food and drink. She blinked in surprise, distracted from the mild argument as she stared at the delicacies in front of her. Beside her, Ron and Hermione were in similar states.

'What – what happened to the Sorting?' Ron stammered.

Seamus peeked around Harry at the red-head. 'What are you talking about, mate? It's over!'

Ron blinked. 'Over?'

Hermione chuckled amusedly. 'I guess we got so caught up in our conversation that we didn't even notice the Sorting taking place.'

Seamus leered at them. 'That must have been one intense conversation then!'

Harry flushed slightly, thinking about what she, Ron and Hermione had been talking about. _Intense, hn._

Beside her, Seamus laughed. 'I can't believe you missed the entire thing! I mean, yeah even we' – he gestured at Dean, Neville, Ginny and himself – 'missed the first half, but to miss the _whole_ Sorting – !'

'We had a lot of important things to discuss, Seamus,' Hermione cut in smoothly as she helped herself to mashed potatoes.

The Irishman raised his eyebrows at her. 'Hermione, the War is over! _Normal life_ has started! How can there still be "important things to discuss" anymore?'

As Hermione answered her year-mate, Harry tuned out the conversation and frowned down at her plate of food. Normal life? Harry Potter's life was anything but normal.

_And it doesn't look like that's about to change anytime soon_, she thought gloomily to herself as she glanced at her hand where the ring was hidden underneath the black glove. In fact, her life was so not-normal that the not-normal things that incessantly happened to her could actually be considered "normal". She laughed drily at the irony of that thought, ignoring the questioning looks her friends shot at her.

_Oh, yes, what a normal life I have!_

* * *

'They want the Houses to be united?' Blaise raised his dark eyebrows as the Hat's song faded away into silence, and then applause. 'That is easier said than done.'

Draco merely grunted in reply.

'It could still be achieved though,' went on Blaise, ignoring his friend. 'Yes, there could be unity ...'

'Excuse me?' Draco finally looked around at the half-Italian, vaguely aware that the Sorting Ceremony had begun. 'Do you honestly believe that to be possible, Blaise? Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are already friends, but do you really think that Slytherin will be accepted by any of the other houses?'

'Well, why not?' the other shot at him challengingly.

The blond raised an eyebrow at his housemate. 'Ever since the time of Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, there has been nothing but rivalry between the two houses, Blaise; and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw always side with Gryffindor. That has been the way of things for nearly a thousand years.'

'Well,' Blaise smirked as his eyes strayed towards the Gryffindors, 'maybe it's about time that we changed that little tradition.'

Draco looked curiously at Blaise. 'And how do you plan on doing that? Are you going to go up to those lions and say "Let's all be best friends from now on"? Oh, yes, _that_ certainly is going to work!'

'Don't be absurd, Drake,' drawled the brunet, ignoring Draco's sarcasm.

'_Don't_ call me that, Zabini!'

'What I have in mind is a much better and easier approach,' he went on as if there had been no interruption.

'Oh? And what may that be? Friendships can't be earned overnight.'

'Exactly; which is why we start simple: we should stop being hostile to them.'

There was a pause during which Draco raised an eyebrow slowly at his friend who looked back with a perfectly straight face; and then, 'Stop being hostile to them ... _that_ is your brilliant plan?' The blond asked sardonically.

Blaise rolled his eyes exasperatedly. 'Honestly, the subtle beauty of these plans is lost on Malfoys whose minds are so practical that they cannot appreciate master schemers at work even if they came along and poked said Malfoys in their pretty eyes!'

A dangerous vein throbbed on Draco's left temple. 'Well, then, O' Master Schemer,' he ground out through clenched teeth, losing patience rapidly, 'why don't you do the honours and elaborate your "subtle" _schemes_ for me?'

The other Slytherin grinned in an annoyingly condescending manner. 'Well, you see, _Drake_,' – Draco repressed the urge to just let go of his cool composure and turn his friend into a makeshift trampoline – 'the Houses are prejudiced against us because they have been blindly led to believe that we are the notorious bad wizards, ever since the old rivalry between Godric and Salazar like you said. Now, the real problem is that no Slytherin has ever bothered to prove them otherwise. We have never taken the trouble to show the other Houses that we are not evil. In fact, most of us, angered at their beliefs and grudges, have even encouraged those prejudices by joining the Dark Side one time or another. Some joined just to spite other wizards because of what they believe. Very few of us have stuck to the Light. And because of that, their thinking that all Slytherins are Dark Wizards has been strengthened over the centuries.'

Draco frowned at Blaise's blunt speech, but did not argue. His words rang with truth. Many a Slytherin had been seduced by the irresistible allure of the dark side of power and ambition. The Malfoys, who had been so easily deceived by the Dark Lord's promises of power and status, were living proof of that.

'Now, what we need to do,' Blaise continued cheerfully, 'is take the first step and show the world that even a Slytherin deserves the trust of the Wizarding World. And the perfect place to start is right here in Hogwarts where the prejudices against us are the strongest.'

'And we can break those prejudices by ... not being hostile to the other Houses?' Draco said wryly.

'That is the first step,' Blaise said with a dazzling smile that almost caused a fourth year girl in front of him to swoon and faint. 'The other Houses have been hostile towards us and we have been hostile towards them in turn. But if we start being _friendly_ towards them – '

'Then they will all probably get heart attacks from the very shock of it and drop dead before you can say "friends",' Draco finished dryly as he poked his chicken with a fork.

Blaise snickered at his friend's sadistic attitude. 'They'll get over it. In fact, if we are civil to them, they'll start being civil to us. It might take some time, but in the end, friendship can exist between all of us.'

'Hmm.' Draco gazed around the Great Hall with keen eyes, pointedly ignoring a sixth year girl who was seated diagonally across from him and was gazing eagerly at his engagement ring, 'we stop fighting with them, and they stop fighting with us; we drop our hostility, and they become civil to us; we all stand on neutral grounds and there is mutual acceptance of each other; and finally, a tentative bond between us and the other Houses forms ...'

'... Which will evolve into friendship,' Blaise finished for him with a proud grin.

'Hn. As much as I hate to say it, Blaise, that plan doesn't sound half so bad.'

The half-Italian merely smirked arrogantly.

'But,' Draco turned to his friend with a sneer, glad to have found a flaw in his oh-so-brilliant plan, 'how are you going to ensure that the "first step" works? Only the two of us know of this ... "plan". Do you really expect the rest of our housemates to just suddenly drop the grudges against the other Houses? How are you going to make them act friendly towards the rest?'

He was fully expecting the conceited smirk on Blaise's face to fade away into a disappointed frown. What he had not been anticipating was for the smirk to turn into a wolfish grin before Blaise shot him an almost comical I'm-very-disappointed-in-you look.

'And I thought you were an intelligent man, Malfoy.'

Draco's eyes narrowed into slits. 'What are you trying to say, Zabini?'

Blaise shook his head with a roll of his eyes. 'Honestly, Draco, do you really not know the influence you hold over the rest of the House?'

The blond aristocrat blinked. 'What?'

'Don't pull that with me; you know very well what I'm talking about. You are the unofficial Prince of Slytherin! Surely you must have noticed how the rest of our House practically worships you! To them, your word is law.'

Draco stared at Blaise with an openly confused expression on his face. 'And this is helpful how?'

Blaise shot him a look of mild irritation. 'It's very simple, Draco. As soon as _you_ start being friendly towards the rest of Hogwarts, the rest of the Slytherins will follow suit; no questions asked! You're their Prince. Whatever you do, they'll follow. You know this.'

The blond looked amused. He had known that a lot of his housemates imitated him but still – Prince of Slytherin? He had never even thought of giving himself such a title before. 'Is that right?' he drawled. 'But, what if they don't like my being nice to the others? What if they decide to ... mutiny?' He smirked at Blaise.

'They won't,' the other answered with supreme confidence. 'We snakes may be sly and cunning, but we are loyal and we stick together. They won't betray you. As soon as you start being civil to the others, they will too. After they get over the shock, of course,' Blaise added with a sadistic smile.

Draco snorted before turning back to his food.

'So,' Blaise continued, a manic glint entering his dark eyes, 'are we ready to start befriending the lions, badgers and ravens?'

The aristocrat looked amusedly at him with a raised eyebrow. 'Enthusiastic, aren't you?'

The dark-haired teen shrugged. 'We don't need any more wars around here,' he said simply. 'Besides,' he added with a scary smile, 'I like a challenge.'

'Well, then, you should get started on the Gryffindors,' Draco said wryly. 'I don't think befriending the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws will be too hard. But the lions, they won't be so accepting of us.'

'No, they won't,' agreed a madly grinning Blaise, 'which is why I really want to show them just how nice a Slytherin can be. Can you imagine their disbelief?'

'Oh Merlin, he just put the words "Slytherin" and "nice" into the same sentence! What is the world coming to?!'

'Enough with the mocking, Draco; I am really looking forward to this.'

'I can see that,' he remarked as he glanced over at the Gryffindor table. After a few moments of keen observation, Draco chuckled. 'You should get together with Leprechaun Boy, Blaise.'

'What?'

Draco gestured with his head towards a certain Seamus Finnegan. 'That idiot has the exact same shit-eating grin on his face as you do. I don't know for sure, but he's looking at our table so I'm guessing that he's as eager as you to become "friends".'

'You don't say,' Blaise leered. 'Hmm, maybe I should have a few words with him.'

'Zabini and Finnegan putting their heads together to plan on how to get the lions and the snakes to be friends,' Draco said in a mock-horror tone. 'If I didn't know better, I'd say that the end of the world has come.'

'Don't be such a drama queen,' Blaise said and ignored Draco's angry protest at the words. 'This friendship and unity between the Houses is a serious issue; we have been divided for far too long.'

'I know that, Zabini, but,' Draco glanced back at the Gryffindor table. His eyes roved over Finnegan and his friends before turning to Potter, Weasley and Granger who were deep in conversation. His eyes lingered on the raven-haired girl for long moments.

'But what?' Blaise prompted.

Draco tore his eyes away from the girl. 'But I can't really see myself being friends with ... say, Potter or the Weasel!'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Perhaps if you tried ...?'

Draco snorted. 'Like Potter would ever accept me as a friend!'

'Well, she already saved your family from prison. Why should friendship be so difficult?' Blaise grinned at him.

'I don't particularly want to be _her_ friend.'

Blaise gave him a look. 'Does this mean that you won't even try to start a friendship with Gryffindor? Because you don't like _her_ just because she merely chose Weasley over you, which, by the way, happened seven years ago?'

Draco scowled at him, angry at his words. He did not want to be reminded of how hurt and furious he had been when Hariah Potter had turned him down and chosen to befriend the Weasel instead. 'Fine, I'll be civil, then. But don't expect me to stoop so low as to worship the ground she walks on!'

Blaise shook his head. 'All this hatred you have towards her ... is it just because she refused to be your friend?'

Draco glared down at his plate, but did not answer. There were other deeper reasons, but he was not willing to share them. Not with Blaise; not with anybody.

'Well, getting back to the topic we were originally discussing ...'

'I know, Blaise, I know; be nice to others. I get it.'

'So, you will do this with me?'

'Sure,' Draco muttered. 'My mother wanted me to be civil to the lions, anyway; she told me this morning. So, I see no harm in going along with your so-called plan.'

'Good; and as soon as you start, the rest of the Slytherins will start, too.'

Draco sighed. 'This better not be a waste of time.'

'Oh, it won't be, Draco, it won't be.'

* * *

'That was good eating,' grinned Ron as they made their way out of the Great Hall after the banquet. Headmistress McGonagall had dismissed them very soon. She had not made an extravagant speech, but had spoken normally and not made any references to the past battle. Not that she had needed to after that blunt song the Sorting Hat had sung.

Harry stifled a yawn as they trudged across the Entrance Hall towards the marble staircase. She was tired and all she yearned now was to crawl into her bed and go to sleep. She was about to stifle another yawn when Ginny suddenly nudged her in the ribs.

'What?' she grunted.

Ginny smirked at her before nodding her head in the general direction of the dungeons. Harry followed her gaze and her eyes locked on a familiar white-blond head. She scowled at Malfoy's retreating back before raising her eyebrows at Ginny coolly.

'Well, Harry,' the red-haired girl smiled coyly at her, 'aren't you going to give your husband-to-be a goodnight kiss?'

Harry spluttered as she blushed from head to toe. Ron and Hermione, who were beside her and had overheard the comment, reacted differently; while Ron went red in the face and hissed at his sister to "shut the bloody hell up", Hermione just giggled in a very uncharacteristic manner.

'What's going on?' Seamus, Neville and Dean came up behind them.

'Oh, nothing,' Ginny said innocently. 'We were just wondering how we can obey the Sorting Hat's wishes and be _friendly_ to the Slytherins.' She smiled sweetly at Harry who glared threateningly at her.

'Oh, that,' Seamus grinned widely before turning to face the entrance to the dungeons. 'Yeah, that'll be a real challenge. I can't wait to get started! Ooh, those snakes won't know what hit them!'

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville stared at the sandy-haired teen.

'Brace yourselves,' Dean said, deadpanned. 'Chaos are about to ensue in Hogwarts, courtesy of this moron over here.' He pointed at his best friend.

Seamus merely cackled as rubbed his hands in glee, eyes glinting maniacally. 'Ooh, this is going to be fun!'

* * *

**A/N: Hell yeah, it's gonna be fun, alright! XD **

**But I have a little request for you guys: if you could please leave me some ideas (_cough_CRAZYIDEAS_cough_) about some lion-snake-friendshippy stunts that Seamus could pull off in the future? I do have a few in mind, but I'm not so sure about them, so I'd really love to hear your suggestions if you have any. _Pretty please?_ ::puppy-dog eyes:: No obligations, though. :)  
**

**Just so you know, the next chapter might take a little while, so don't get your hopes up that I'll update as soon as I did this time, hm? But you know ... feedback gives me a lot of inspiration and can make me type like crazy ... Hah, yes, I'm shamelessly dropping hints! XD  
**

**UP NEXT: _CHAPTER SEVEN - Perverts, Potions and Partners_**


	7. Perverts, Potions and Partners

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: Woot! Thanks for all the ideas, guys! I can't promise to use all of 'em 'cause I've already planned a huge part of this fic (I just need to shove in Seamus and his antics in there), but I really appreciate them. Also, the actual "stunts" won't start happening immediately - I've got some some other stuff planned for the next few chappies before Seamus can steal the show. ^v^'**

**Just a PS to _-soaring high-_: Do you have ESP or something? 'Cause I had almost the exact same idea as yours! XD**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: PERVERTS, POTIONS AND PARTNERS**

'GOOD _MORNING_, SUNSHINE!'

Harry shot up in bed with a startled yell as freezing water drenched her body, all traces of sleep and drowsiness vanishing in an instant.

'What – wha - what ...' she spluttered as she coughed out the small amount of water that had entered her mouth. As her coughing fit came to an end, her ears were greeted with the sound of hearty laughter. She pushed the sopping hair out of her face and reached for her glasses which were on her bedside table.

'Parvati!' Harry exclaimed in outrage when she saw the pretty Indian girl standing over her bed, holding an empty bucket in her hand and laughing uproariously at her. In the background, she could see Lavender Brown doubled over as she guffawed and Hermione perched on her bed, looking like she was biting back her mirth. 'What the heck was _that_ for?!'

'You,' Parvati Patil continued to laugh, 'needed a little persuasion to wake up.'

'What are you talking about?' Harry huffed as she swung her legs off the soaked bed and stood up. Her pyjamas clung to her body and she winced as she felt the coldness of the water seeping into her skin. She shivered.

'We've been trying to wake you up for the past twenty minutes, Harry,' Hermione explained gently, though her face still held poorly disguised amusement at her best friend's wake up call, 'but you were too deeply asleep and it's the first day of school and already time for breakfast. So, Parvati here decided that, er, some _drastic measures_ needed to be taken.'

'Drastic measures,' Harry snorted as she whipped out her wand and quickly dried her bed and night clothes. 'And you couldn't think of anything besides soaking me in a bucketful of water?'

'Oldest trick in the book and it works better than magic,' Parvati snickered. 'Or I could've just done the more obvious and set your underwear on fire. That would've been equally effective.' She began to laugh again.

Harry frowned at her dormmates as she bent down to find her school robes in her trunk, but decided not to snap at them.

'So, Harry,' Lavender said innocently, watching the raven-haired girl with a smirk as she carefully combed her hair.

'Hmm?'

'Just out of mild curiosity, what kind of erotic dreams were you having that you just could not bring yourself to wake up and greet the day, huh?'

'Hmm?' Harry repeated distractedly as she tried to find her tie. It took a few moments for the meaning of the question to dawn on her. Harry froze and turned around slowly to stare at her dormmates. Parvati and Lavender promptly dissolved into giggles while Hermione shot them scandalised looks before smiling reassuringly at her friend.

Harry scowled at them before turning back to the task at hand. 'I wasn't dreaming about anything,' she muttered. 'Perverts,' she added, causing the other two girls' boisterous laughter to increase in volume which she decided to ignore. Finally having had found her tie, she gathered her clothes in her arms and proceeded to hurry to the bathroom. But as luck would have it, her foot caught on one of the legs of her bed and she stumbled; her clothes spilled out of her arms.

'Oh,' Lavender, who had finally calmed down, said, 'here, let me help you.'

'Thanks,' Harry said rather grudgingly, still embarrassed at her blunt question. Hermione came over to help them while Parvati began to rush around the dorm room, screeching about a missing hair ribbon.

'Oh, for Merlin's sake, just wear your hair down and forget about the ribbon,' Hermione said to Parvati impatiently as she placed Harry's school shirt back in her arms.

'But, it's a _silk_ ribbon! I can't lose it, it cost a fortune!'

Lavender rolled her eyes and was about to snap at her best friend when she suddenly frowned. 'Harry,' she said slowly, 'why are you wearing a glove?'

The girl in question froze. 'Er, umm ... that ...' she stammered, glancing down uncomfortably at the black, fingerless glove on her left hand. Harry struggled to come up with an excuse, but her mind had gone blank and she could not think of anything to say. Lavender was looking at her curiously, suspicion dawning in her eyes. Harry looked back, mentally screaming at her brain to think up a lie but could come up with nothing. _Why? Why now?_ She might not be an excellent liar, but when the situation called for it, she had been able to come up with some passable fibs in the past. _Come on, think!_

It was Hermione, as usual, who came to her rescue.

'Harry cut her hand on a barbed wire this summer,' she said airily, pushing a pair of socks into Harry's hands. 'It was a deep cut. She had to have her hand bandaged and she's wearing the glove now for extra protection against germs until her palm fully heals.'

'Oh,' said Lavender sympathetically while Harry shot Hermione a look of gratitude. 'How's your hand now? You have to wear it for long? 'Cause, no offense, but wearing that thing really doesn't compliment you.'

'Ah, I'll be able to take it off soon,' Harry said quickly. 'I hope,' she added, thinking about what everyone had told her about the chances of being able to remove that damned ring of Malfoy's.

Lavender handed her the tie and Harry quickly stood up, thanking her, eager to escape to the bathroom. On the way, Hermione stopped her with a hand and murmured in a low voice, 'And I thought you said that no one would bother to look at anyone's hands!'

* * *

'Good morning,' Ron yawned when Harry and Hermione joined him in the common room. They hurried down to breakfast together where they found that most of the students had already arrived at the Great Hall and that the Heads of Houses were moving down the tables, passing out their timetables. The Gryffindor table was attended to by Headmistress McGonagall and the three of them realised that this meant that another Professor had not been chosen to be the Gryffindor Head of House.

'I wonder why that is?' Hermione murmured as they watched McGonagall drawing closer to them. It was unusual for a headmaster or mistress to be a Head of House.

'Probably couldn't find another one at such short notice,' Ron said wisely. 'The War just ended after all.'

'Do you think this means that she'll continue to teach us Transfiguration?' Harry asked thoughtfully.

'Let's find out.'

Professor McGonagall finally reached them and briskly handed them their timetables; she bestowed a kind, rare smile on all three of them, nonverbally welcoming them back to the school.

'Hello, Professor,' Hermione smiled back at her.

'Miss Granger, Miss Potter, Mr Weasley.'

'Are you still teaching us Transfiguration, Professor?' Hermione asked, getting right to the point.

'Yes, I am; we were unable to find another teacher for the post so soon, so I shall be taking over the responsibilities and duties of both headmistress and your teacher.'

'We wish you good luck, Professor.'

'Thank you, Miss Granger and – ah, there you are, Longbottom. Here's your timetable.'

A sleepy looking Neville accepted the offered piece of paper politely before dropping into a seat across from the trio. Mumbling a morning greeting which they returned, Neville scanned his timetable before he frowned with dissatisfaction.

'This is just like it used to be before,' he grumbled. 'Double Potions! Ugh, why must they always start Mondays with _double Potions_?'

Ron groaned in irritation and promptly dropped his head onto the table with a resounding bang that caused three passing girls to jump in fright.

'Oh, cheer up, Neville,' said Hermione, shooting an exasperated look at Ron who must have lost a few brain cells with his head banging. 'With Slughorn teaching us, it's not too bad, is it?'

'Maybe not,' Neville muttered, 'but after all those years with Snape, I still hate it.'

Harry coughed slightly into her porridge. It made her feel awkward to hear others talk negatively about Severus Snape now, but she still had not told anyone apart from Ron and Hermione that their former teacher had been a good person all along; someday, she supposed that she would, but not now. It was still too soon. Of course, there was still the fatc that she had pretty much screamed out that Snape had been on their side when she had confronted Voldemort in the Great Hall during the final battle, but she was still unsure about how many of the onlookers had actually registered her words. Most had been too focussed on the fight, and she still occasionally heard people badmouthing Snape. Such words almost sent her over the edge.

'Morning,' two voices said. All four of them looked up to see Seamus and Dean.

'So, what are we having today?' the latter asked as the two of them joined the four at the table.

'Double Potions,' Harry answered in a neutral voice. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Seamus' eyes lighting up instantly.

'Awesome!' the Irishman rubbed his hands together gleefully like he had done the night before.

'What are you so happy about?' grunted a still irritated Ron as he buttered his toast. 'It's _Potions_!'

'There'll be a considerable number of Slytherins with us,' Seamus said happily.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville looked round at Seamus questioningly. It was Dean who answered their unvoiced question: 'He's eager to get started on the whole friendship-with-the-Slytherins thing.'

'Ah,' said Neville in understanding as Hermione smiled in approval at the sandy-haired teen.

Ron still looked irritated. 'I get that what the Sorting Hat said last night about unity and friendship is important; what I _don't_ get is why _you_' – he pointed an accusing half-eaten sausage at the grinning Irishman – 'are so freaking enthusiastic about it! And what's with the obsession with the snakes? Can't we start befriending the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs before moving onto the Slytherins?'

'Oh, stop it, Ron,' said Hermione patronizingly, 'this is a good thing, remember? Besides, we're already on good terms with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.'

'But why do we have to become all buddy-buddy with the snakes so soon?' Ron positively whined. It was obvious that he still did not find the idea of being friendly with Slytherins very appealing.

'The sooner, the better, mate,' Seamus said exuberantly as he shovelled porridge into his mouth at a sickeningly awe-inspiring speed that could rival that of Ron's. 'And don't forget, playing nice with the snakes won't be easy; and I like a challenge!' His eyes sparkled happily.

'Bottom line: Finnegan is suicidal and has got a death wish,' Ron said deadpanned. 'I can just imagine the reactions you'll get when you sashay up to the Slytherins and plead with them to be your best friends for life and to play in the sandbox with you.'

Even Hermione had to laugh at that.

'I can't believe that you actually said that with a straight face,' Harry snickered, looking amusedly at her male best friend. 'But I agree with them, Ron, we have to give the Slytherins a chance.'

'I never said we shouldn't,' he protested.

'Well, stop whining like a three year old about it, then, and let's get to class,' said Hermione smiling as she stood up. Harry and Ron followed, the latter predictably arguing with the girl about the "three year old" comment. They were soon joined by their three other friends and they made their way to the dungeons.

* * *

Professor Slughorn, they found out, was the same as he had ever been when they entered the cold dungeon classroom. He did not look like a man who had fought in a War against one of the most feared Dark Wizards in a century, but was as enthusiastic and bouncy as he had been back when he had first taken up the position of Potions Master at the school.

When Harry stepped into the classroom after her friends, he welcomed her back to Hogwarts with much more energy than the occasion warranted (or so Harry felt, in any case) and very loudly congratulated her on her victory over Voldemort to her great embarrassment, for this, of course, brought the attention of all the students present on her.

Mumbling an incoherent answer, she turned to hurry away from her embarrassing teacher only to find Draco Malfoy's silvery eyes watching her with cold amusement at her very obvious humiliation, his lips twisted in what appeared to be a half-smirk. She looked coldly back at the aristocrat, hating the mocking smile on his face and the silent laughter in his eyes. Her cheeks began to heat up when she suddenly grew extremely conscious of the ring on her finger and she stomped towards the back of the classroom where Ron and Hermione had saved her a seat. She could have sworn she heard Malfoy chuckle slightly when she swept past him, but decided that he was not worth her time and the trouble when the very tempting idea of drowning him in his cauldron made itself known.

Hermione, being the perceptive (annoyingly so, sometimes) witch that she was, immediately noticed the figurative thundercloud that flashed with lightening hanging above Harry's head, and she looked at her with raised eyebrows as Harry sat down beside her, but the raven-haired girl ignored her. The first day of her last year at her beloved school had just started and already her mood was a foul one.

_Damn Malfoy!_ She scowled at her desk, only vaguely aware that her teacher was writing instructions on the board. _Him and his goddamned smirk!_ She had seen that smirk too many times in the past seven years and not only on Draco Malfoy's face either, but also on his father's, and they were absolutely infuriating. The mocking smiles were identical. It was surely a Malfoy thing; something to do with genetics. There was no other way that the smirks could look so identical on two different (but very similar) faces. _The Malfoys should copyright that bloody smirk of theirs_, Harry thought with a snort. She bit back a harsh snigger when she realised the possibility that it might already be copyrighted. _Well, that wouldn't surprise me._

'Are you alright?' Hermione asked quietly, startling the girl from her thoughts. Ron, too, was looking at his best friend with concern.

'What? Yes, of course I am.'

'Really?' Ron said sceptically. 'Because for a moment there, you looked like you were about to set your desk on fire; you were glaring so hard at it.'

Harry blinked. 'I was?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'It's Malfoy, isn't it?' she asked bluntly.

Ron was immediately on his guard. 'What did he do?' He growled, turning his head to glare at the back of Malfoy's white-blond head. Hermione threw the red-head an irate look.

'Relax, Ron, he didn't exactly _do_ anything.' Harry shook her head slightly, her frown coming back onto her face.

Ron calmed down, but only very slightly. 'So, why were you so angry just now?' He asked, looking suspiciously at Harry.

'Because he was being a sadistic jerk,' Harry scowled. And fully aware that she sounded extremely childish and petulant, she ground out, 'When Slughorn ... you know, just embarrassed me like that, he just smirked at me like he used to and ...' she groaned in frustration, 'he's just like he used to be! He still enjoys it when I get humiliated and is hell bent on rubbing it in my face! He still thinks he's superior to me! He – he ... ugh, you would think he'd be a _little_ grateful since I practically saved his undeserving sorry ass from Azkaban and ... _what_?' she snapped when she saw Ron's confused expression and Hermione's knowing smile.

'_That_ is why you were so angry just now?' Ron said blankly.

Harry frowned at him uncomprehendingly. 'And your point is?'

The auburn-haired male shook his head slightly. 'Harry, I like Malfoy as much as you do, but, seriously, don't you think you're overreacting?'

'What'd you mean?'

'Harry,' Ron said pointedly, 'Malfoy's been smirking at us everyday for the past seven years. I would think you'd be immune to it by now.'

Harry opened her mouth to protest, feeling a little embarrassed but Hermione beat her to it. 'Well, Ron,' the bushy-haired girl grinned slyly, reminding Harry of Ginny when she was plotting something, 'you know what Harry's like; she _always_ "overreacts" to Malfoy because he's the only one that can wind her up like no one else can!'

Harry saw red. 'What's _that_ supposed to mean?' she hissed furiously, emerald eyes crackling with electricity as she glared at the girl while Ron looked like he had just had an extra-heavy toilet seat dropped on his head as understanding dawned in his blue eyes.

Hermione was saved the trouble of coming up with a placating answer that would calm down the ferocious Potter when Slughorn, who had finally finished his preparations, boomed, 'All right, class, pay attention now!' He clapped his hands together as he grinned round at them all disarmingly. 'You're all in your seventh, or should I say, _eighth_ year now and, to impress upon you the high level standard of these classes, I'm going to assign you a potion that is as advanced a one as you can come across in your NEWT exams: the Verita Potion!'

He looked around at them keenly with his arms spread wide, waiting for a reaction, but none came except from Hermione who gasped softly, her eyes going wide. The rest of the class looked up at Slughorn with blank eyes.

The Potion's Master looked disappointed and appeared to deflate slightly. One would almost expect him to pout like a three year old. 'Does no one here know what the Verita Potion is?' he asked, looking beseechingly around the dungeon room.

As expected, Hermione's hand shot up, successfully thwacking Harry's head on the way and almost knocking off her glasses.

A huge grin unfolded on their teacher's face. 'Ah, Miss Granger, of course.'

'The Verita Potion is a concoction that prevents the drinker from speaking lies. It is much like Veritaserum; however, the Verita Potion does not force one to reveal truths that one would rather conceal like Veritaserum does, but it only prevents the drinker from lying outright when questioned,' Hermione reeled off, once more displaying the bewildering photographic memory she possessed when it came to reading their school textbooks.

'Excellent,' Slughorn exclaimed exuberantly. 'Take ten points for Gryffindor!'

Hermione glowed with modest pride (Was that even possible? Harry wondered.)

'Know-it-all,' muttered Ron, but he said it fondly and grinned cheekily at Hermione when she mock-glared at him. Harry chuckled slightly, mind taken off of Malfoy temporarily.

'Like Miss Granger said, the Verita Potion is very much like Veritaserum but it is not as strong as the truth serum and does not force the drinker to reveal anything, but merely prevents him or her from outright lying. The drinker would have the right to withhold as much information as he or she wishes or maintain silence. Because of this, the potion can be used legally without supervision unlike Veritaserum.

'However,' Professor Slughorn continued, 'this potion has a potential weakness. Does anyone know what it is?'

Hermione's hand waved enthusiastically in the air again. Ron snorted while Harry just rolled her eyes at them both.

'Go ahead,' Slughorn grinned at Hermione.

'Since the Verita Potion gives the drinker the right to withhold information and only prevents him from speaking lies, the questioner cannot fully rely on what the drinker does choose to reveal, because the drinker _can_ speak half-truths or words whose meaning can be twisted or distorted.'

'Exactly,' Slughorn gave Hermione another dazzling grin, 'another ten points for Gryffindor.'

'Teacher's pet,' Ron coughed, looking teasingly at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. She smacked him upside the head without turning her head, but Harry could easily see the small, shy smile that graced her face as she looked at their teacher with rapt attention.

'Now, the Verita Potion is not as difficult to make as Veritaserum which includes wand work (by the way, you'll all be learning to make it in the next term), but this potion takes a longer time to make because it requires a lot of ingredients and can be prepared through a very complex procedure. All in all, this will take nearly a month and a half to make!'

The class stared at him, most of them with wide eyes.

Slughorn chuckled good-naturedly at them. 'I understand how you feel. This is the first time you've been given such a complex potion to prepare. For this reason, I have decided to make this a class project and before you ask, yes, a percentage of this will be counted in your overall grade.'

Groans sounded out throughout the classroom. 'A _project_ on the _first_ day of school?' Seamus moaned loudly from his place next to Dean, who wore a similar expression to that of his best friend's.

Their teacher chuckled again. 'This is going to be a hard year for you; might as well get started now and prepare yourselves for the upcoming NEWTs. Preparing this potion will be a good experience for you. Besides, you don't have to do this alone,' Slughorn continued brightly. 'This project will be done with partners.'

All the students looked up at their teacher, most of them slightly mollified. Beside Harry, Ron heaved a sigh of relief, and Harry could not help but agree with him. She had sneaked a peek at the pages on Verita Potion in her Potions textbook and the number of ingredients had been great and the procedure had indeed looked extremely complicated to her. A partner would certainly be helpful.

'I would advise you to spend some time with your partners after school hours to collect information and plan on how to make the potion; a lot of time will be required to go through the procedures so that when you are finally ready to begin preparing the Verita Potion, you can do it right. I promise you now that this will not be easy to make and I expect every single one of you to pass with at least an A grade. You may work on the manual part of the project during our double periods and whenever else you and your partner are free; your potions, until finished, will be stored here in the classroom and you and your partner may retrieve them whenever you want after school hours to finish it. Is that understood?'

The students nodded.

'Good. Also, when you turn in your potions, I expect each of you to turn in a 3 foot essay on the effects and uses of this potion, which, by the way, is an individual work.' He shot them a sunny smile when they all promptly groaned at their workload.

'Ah, well,' Professor Slughorn grinned at them, 'let's get started on dividing you into pairs, shall we?'

Conversation immediately started in the classroom as the students began to search for suitable potion-partners.

'So, who should be with whom?' Ron asked, turning to Harry and Hermione. Hermione gazed wistfully at Ron for a long second before her eyes turned to her female best friend and uncertainty dawned in her brown eyes.

'I ... I don't know ... um, what do you think, Harry?'

Harry suppressed an amused snort. Even a person with less than half a brain could see that the two of them were just dying to be partnered together. She did not want Hermione to think that she was obligated to be Harry's partner because of their friendship, when it was so obvious that she would rather be with the man she had been in love with for, what, six years now?

'You two team up,' Harry said airily, 'and I'll ... er ...' she glanced around and spotted the Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan seated at the neighbouring table, 'I'll go with Ernie.'

The happiness on Ron and Hermione's faces could not be masked, but nevertheless, Hermione asked with some uncertainly, 'Are you sure about that, Harry?'

She waved them away. 'Sure, sure, I'll be fine. You too go ahead and, er ... have fun.' She winked at them at which Hermione went pink and Ron looked away in embarrassment. Harry almost laughed.

They had already shared the much long-awaited kiss (and, what a kiss it had been, too, in the middle of the Great War and everything!) but it was obvious that they had still not exactly made their relationship official. In spite of the constant bickering, her best friends were still actually shy around each other! She shook her head slightly. As entertaining as their current relationship was, her patience was beginning to wear thin and she was eager for them to just properly confess their feelings and "hit it off", to put it in Ginny's words. _At least that would be one problem out of the way_.

Slughorn's booming laugh caught the attention of the class at that moment.

'Hasty, aren't you?' He looked around at them with twinkling eyes. 'I had not finished my instructions yet. Yes, I said you would be working with partners, but I did not say that _you_ would be choosing your partners, now, did I?'

Silence reigned in the classroom for the few seconds it took for the meaning of his words to sink in, and then another round of disappointed groans sounded. 'That's not fair!' a Ravenclaw girl whined.

'On the contrary, my dear girl,' Slughorn replied brightly as he unfolded a scroll of parchment, 'it is very fair. This way, you all stand a good chance of working properly and equally. Now, I have the list of partners here and I'll call them out. Every double period you will sit with your assigned partner, understood? Alright then, let's start: Susan Bones and Dean Thomas. Terry Boot and Ernie Macmillan ...'

As he called out their names, Harry could not help but notice that not one of the pairs were of the same House. Every student was paired off with a person who was from a different House. She was not the only one to notice, either.

'It looks like at least Slughorn is taking the Sorting Hat's song very seriously,' Hermione murmured to Harry and Ron a few minutes after Slughorn had started announcing the pairs.

'... Seamus Finnegan and Millicent Bulstrode ...'

The rest of the class watched in bemusement as Seamus whooped and punched a fist into the air in ecstasy before picking up his bag and sauntering over to his Slytherin partner happily. Millicent Bulstrode raised her eyebrows coolly at him as he plopped down into the seat next to hers, but he only flashed all thirty two of his teeth at her in a ten thousand volt grin and she turned away with a confused look on her face.

'I don't know who I feel sorrier for: Seamus or Bulstrode,' muttered Ron and Harry could not help but snicker. She had to agree with him on that one.

'... Hariah Potter and Blaise Zabini ...'

Harry blinked slightly in mild surprise before she gazed around the classroom, seeking her partner. He was not hard to find. Zabini was seated next to Malfoy, and he had turned slightly in his seat to look at her. When their eyes met, he gave her a small nod before turning to face the front again. Harry continued to gaze at the back of his head.

She did not personally know Blaise Zabini and the only time she had been in close proximity with him had been when Slughorn had invited them both to lunch in his compartment during the train ride at the beginning of their sixth year. Zabini had not liked her back then, if the looks he had given her during that long-winded lunch were anything to go by, and she did not know if they would get along well now. Harry sighed as she turned away from him. If they could not work as a team, then this project was utterly screwed. And since Slughorn had said that it would be counted in their grade, her dreams of getting good marks in Potions and becoming a respectable Auror were as good as over. She winced at the thought of failing and being the dead last. _He just had to pair me up with a Slytherin, didn't he?_

Hermione did not look as perturbed by this arrangement as Harry felt, but Ron on the other hand, looked sympathetic. Harry gave him a small smile, but inside she was crushed. _Why do I get the feeling that this project is going to be very long and unpleasant?_

'... Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley ...'

_Well, maybe not as unpleasant as it'll be for Ron..._

To say that Ron's jaw had hit the ground would be an understatement. He stared with incredulous horror at his teacher, eyes bulging and mouth closing and opening like that of a goldfish. 'Wha – wha ... I don't ...' he stammered, his face growing redder with every passing second, causing Hermione to look at him with worry.

Harry watched her best friend silently, feeling genuinely sorry for him, but, at the same time, also felt a hint of amusement at the rather comical expression on his face. She glanced around at Malfoy who had visibly stiffened and was sitting stock straight in his seat. As she watched, Blaise Zabini clapped Malfoy on the shoulder and said something with a laughing look on his face. Malfoy shrugged off his hand and growled something back, at which Zabini threw back his head and laughed with open amusement.

She turned back to Ron who was now glaring daggers at both the Potions Master and his partner, and resisted the urge to bang her head on the table. The first day of school was turning out to be a truly unlucky one. As Slughorn continued to call out the pairs, blissfully oblivious to the ominous atmosphere that had gripped the dungeon classroom, Harry noticed that a lot of students were now eagerly watching her best friend and Malfoy. _They're expecting a good fight_, she realised with some alarm. Ron had better hold in his temper – his tongue and fists, too; not to mention his wand.

Professor Slughorn finished calling the rest of the names soon after that. Harry and Ron were both of the opinion that Hermione was one very lucky witch; she had been teamed up with Justin Finch-Fletchly, a Hufflepuff with whom all three of them were on very good terms. Harry sighed as she packed her bag so that she could join Zabini as Slughorn had instructed, so that they could spend the rest of the period going through the potion and its procedures, and plan their project. _Hermione is really very lucky_, she thought gloomily.

'Aren't you coming, Ron?' Harry asked, when she noticed that Ron had made no move to get his bag and join Malfoy. He gave her a withering look before pointedly turning to frown at his desk. Harry rolled her eyes. Of course, his pride would not allow him to get up and go to his enemy. But, if she was to be truthful to herself, she did not exactly think Malfoy would come to sit by Ron, either. After all, the blond aristocrat had a bigger ego than her fiery best friend.

Deciding that Ron and Malfoy were definitely going to spend the rest of class glaring at each other from across the room, both unwilling to get up and join their partners, Harry turned away from her friend to move to the front of class and collided into what felt like a hard wall.

'Oh, sorry.'

'Watch where you're going, Potter.'

Harry blinked in surprise when she realised what - or rather whom - she had bumped into.

'What – what are you doing here?'

Malfoy raised a thin, elegant eyebrow as his eyes dipped down to meet with hers. 'Perhaps you are unaware of it, Potter, but Weasley over here is my project partner and according to our teacher's instructions, we are supposed to sit with our partners today. Or is your brain capacity so pitiful that you could not quite grasp that concept?'

Any other day, the insult would have sent Harry's temper flaring, but today, she could only stare with dumbstruck shock at her rival, who had actually gotten off his ridiculously high horse and had come to sit with Ronald Weasley of all people; something that would have never ever happened under any circumstances that could be considered normal.

_Something very wrong is happening to the world..._

A glance at the open shock on Ron's face told her that his thoughts were going along the same tangent as hers.

'Well, Potter, are you going to move or should I run you over? I'd be happy to oblige.'

The shock had begun to wear off somewhat and irritation began to take hold. She bristled, narrowing her eyes at him. 'Whatever,' she growled and brushed past him; but even then, her mind remained focussed on the two people behind her and she looked over her shoulder at them; Malfoy had sat down in the empty chair beside Ron who was watching him with undisguised suspicion and caution. The blond, on the other hand, was completely expressionless.

_What in the world...?_

She was still lost in thought when she finally reached her destination. Blaise Zabini, who had been lounging in his seat waiting for Harry to join him, eyed her distracted face lazily before drawling, 'About time; took you long enough to get here.'

Shaken from her thoughts, Harry turned her eyes on the Slytherin in front of her and his words slowly sunk into her hazy mind. She regarded him warily, unsure whether she should make a retort or just sit down and ignore him for the rest of the period, project be damned.

Zabini met her eyes boldly and his lips twitched up in an amused half-smile. 'You are allowed to sit down, you know. I don't bite ... at least, not hard.' He smirked at her.

The green-eyed girl stared at him, not knowing what to make of his friendly-slash-mocking attitude. He returned her gaze, still smirking slightly. Harry heaved a mental sigh. Snakes were really hard creatures to understand; any effort on her part to try to figure them out would be a waste. Giving up, she dropped her bag unceremoniously onto the ground beside the table she would have to share with Zabini and sat down unenthusiastically next to him. He chuckled at the gloomy look on her face.

'Alright,' Professor Slughorn spoke up suddenly from the front of the class. Harry turned to him at once, glad for the distraction. 'You're all with your partners! Don't waste time now. Start planning. Only through teamwork can you get this potion right!'

Harry almost groaned. His last words had not been encouraging in the least.

'So, how do you want to do this?'

'Huh?' was Harry's intelligent reply to the unexpected question. Zabini, who was flipping though his Potions text book, glanced at her briefly before looking back down at the book.

'I asked how you wanted to go about making the potion.' He paused, having had finally found the page he was looking for. 'Slughorn's right: this is a very complex potion and the procedures are very complicated. He's written some helpful tips on the board, but they won't make this much easier. This is going to need a lot of planning; we need to decide which one of us is going to do which part of the potion and I also suggest that we look up all the information we can about it and its ingredients; a better understanding of it will make it easier for us to actually make it.'

'Right,' mumbled Harry, as she opened her book to the right page.

'Also, since we can only get started on making it during the double period next week, we can use this week to do research. If we have time, we can also get a good start on our essays and that will certainly be helpful to grasp the inner workings of Verita. Is that fine with you?'

'Yeah, I guess.'

'So, what are your free nights?'

Harry looked up at him at that.

'I need to know when you'll be free so that we can arrange to meet up in the library to gather information,' he explained patiently with just a hint of condescension in his tone.

'Oh, right,' Harry muttered. 'I'm free every night.'

'Are you sure?' Zabini raised an eyebrow. 'Don't you have any Quidditch practices or anything?'

Harry was startled. She had completely forgotten about Quidditch, her favourite sport in the world. Since she had ditched school last year, she was pretty sure that she was no longer on the Gryffindor team, let alone the captain. Nor had she received any notices from the headmistress that she had been reinstated in the team. She sighed sadly; there was no doubt: her Hogwarts Quidditch days were most likely over.

'Yes, I'm sure,' she finally said, a touch of wistful regret in her voice.

Zabini looked at her for a long moment. 'Alright. Well, I'm free most nights, too, but we need to leave some nights free for homework ... I suppose two nights will be enough. Tuesday and Thursday nights fine with you?'

'Sure, Zabini,' Harry said indifferently, 'Tuesday and Thursday it is.'

'Blaise.'

'What?'

'Call me Blaise.'

The girl stared at him, taken aback. He smirked wryly at her.

'You and I are going to be spending a lot of time together for the next month and half. We might as well be civil to each other. Being on first name terms seems like a pretty good start.'

'Oh, um ... right, Zabi – er, Blaise,' Harry stammered, still surprised.

He grinned. 'Thank you, Harry ... or would you rather that I called you Hariah?'

She faltered for a second, thinking. Only her closest friends called her Harry. She was Hariah Potter to the rest of the world. And here was Blaise Zabini, a man with whom she had never exchanged words before now...

'Harry is fine,' she said, and immediately wondered what had driven her to permit him to call her by her pet name.

His grin broadened. 'Alright then, Harry.'

The rest of the period passed with the both of them diligently planning their assigned work and going through the procedures. Blaise, Harry found out, was excellent in Potions and he helped her understand the more difficult parts of the Verita Potion. Before she knew it, the bell had rung and class was over. Blaise gave her a lopsided smile and left with an airy, 'See you tomorrow night at seven thirty, Harry.' She returned his smile as she packed her things. She had to admit, working with Blaise Zabini had not been as bad as she had initially thought it would be. It had been strange to say the least, working amiably with a Slytherin she had been sure had hated her, but it had not been unpleasant. Definitely strange, but it was something that she felt that she could get used to.

_Maybe this project won't be such a screw up after all._

It was with a lighter heart that she approached the back of the classroom to join her friends. Ron was stuffing his books into his bag and Hermione, Harry saw, was having a few last words with her partner. Malfoy, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Harry hesitated when she was the strange look on Ron's face and immediately grew worried. Having had been rather caught up with the conversation with Blaise, she had completely forgotten to check up on her best friend and his partner. However, there had not been any sounds of a fight between him and Malfoy (thank Merlin for that!), but something must have definitely happened; she had never seen such a weird look on Ron's face – and that was saying a lot since she had seen a lot of odd expressions on her best friend's features. She approached him uncertainly, but he did not appear to notice her.

'So ... um, Ron,' Harry ventured cautiously, 'how was it with you and Malfoy?'

* * *

**A/N: So ... who saw the Harry-Blaise and Draco-Ron partnerships coming, eh? ;)  
**

**_Verita Potion _and its dynamics are both a modification of J K Rowling's _Veritaserum_, and partly my own invention; so the parts that came from the inner workings of my twisted mind belong to yours truly. Also (as is obvious) I just manipulated _Veritaserum_ to _Verita Potion _to give it a name 'cause I was too lazy to crawl through Latin dictionaries in search of cooler names; I know - I'm so creative, aren't I? ~Note the sarcasm~**

**One more thing! I put up a POLL on my profile page 'cause I wanna know what you guys are thinking about how Draco is going to ... ah, well, just go there to find out and put in a vote if you haven't already, K? Please? :)**

**Some bad news: My unit tests are coming up and stuff, so I'm going to have to stop procrastinating and get on with my studies. So, I'm afraid that there will be no updates for a little while; maybe not _months_, but it'll probably be some weeks before I can update again. :( Sorry, guys, but education comes first.  
**

**ON THE WAY: _CHAPTER EIGHT: The Draco Malfoy Fan Club_ ;P **


	8. The Draco Malfoy Fanclub

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: Man, those were some stressful weeks! But leaving that aside ... Hmm, let's see, it's been ... what, about a month since I last updated? ::sweatdrop:: Ehehe, sorry guys, but thanks for being so patient with me. :) **

**OK, on with the fic!  
**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: THE DRACO MALFOY FANCLUB**

'Hermione,' Harry said uncertainly, 'what happened between Ron and Malfoy?'

They were on their way to the Great Hall to have lunch before their next class which was Transfiguration. Ron was walking slightly ahead of them, not speaking and his eyes still had not lost the glazed look they had acquired during the Potions class; nor had he said a word to either of his friends yet. They were growing worried.

'I don't know,' Hermione answered in a whisper, her eyes filled with concern as she gazed at the red-head in front of them. 'I didn't see anything. There were no fights, no arguments, nothing!'

'But something must've happened!' Harry insisted. 'Ron doesn't usually act like – like, well, _that_!' She pointed at the mute Weasley who did not appear to notice anything that was going on around him.

'I know,' Hermione murmured, 'but he just won't speak.'

Harry's eyes narrowed as her train of thoughts led to a possibility. 'If Malfoy had said or done anything ...' she growled and the threat in her tone was audible. Hermione did not answer, but continued to look troubled.

The silence from Ron extended all the way to the Great Hall and he did not utter a word until he had consumed third helpings of shepherd's pie (something which Harry was glad to note since no loss of appetite on Ron's part meant that he was still himself ... a bit). Finally, after finishing off his pumpkin juice, he looked up at Harry and Hermione who were seated directly across from him and declared abruptly, 'Something weird is happening.'

The two girls, who had not been expecting their male companion to speak any time soon, were startled.

'What?' Hermione asked, looking confused.

'Something weird is happening,' Ron repeated clearly, looking from Harry to Hermione and back again meaningfully.

Harry raised her eyebrows at him, and when he did not elaborate, said a little sarcastically, 'You know, Ron, I pretty much figured that myself about half an hour ago.'

Ron frowned at her, his face entirely serious. 'I mean it, mate, there's something going on.'

'Right,' Harry said, 'and I'm guessing that this has something to do with Malfoy.'

Ron nodded slightly and looked down at his empty plate, frowning again. Harry and Hermione watched him for long moments, but he did not speak. Hermione sighed.

'What happened, Ron?' she asked gently.

He shook his head slightly. 'Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but ...' he looked up at them with his face scrunched up in a cute expression of confusion, 'I dunno how to say this, but ... Malfoy ... well, he ... he wasn't ...' he paused, searching for the right words, 'he wasn't acting like himself during Potions.'

Harry and Hermione both blinked in unison. 'What do you mean?' asked the latter.

'I dunno, he was being almost ... _nice_,' he said the last word with a look of awe on his face as if he were saying something forbidden.

Harry's eyebrows shot sky high. Malfoy – _nice_?

'He didn't call me Weasel even once, he didn't insult my family, he didn't argue with me; he just talked about the project and suggested ways to do the potion and before the bell rang, he told me to meet him in the library tomorrow night to do research ... you'd think we were almost friends!' Ron still had an awed, disbelieving look on his face.

'Friends?' Harry repeated, deadpanned.

Ron frowned again. 'Well, maybe not friends,' he admitted, 'but maybe ... acquaintances?' He shook his head wildly. 'I'm telling you, having Draco Malfoy sitting beside you and speaking civilly as if he had been doing so all his life – it was bloody _scary_.'

The mild surprise that had suffused the air around them vanished and Harry laughed, along with Hermione. But even then, the confusion that had seeped in to her mind remained. Draco Malfoy had been _civil_ to _Ron_? Those were not things that went hand-in-hand. Her friend was right; something weird was happening.

'You know,' Harry said slowly, poking at her food with the fork, 'Malfoy wasn't the only one.'

Ron and Hermione both looked round at her questioningly.

'My partner was being nice, too. And I mean, _nice_.'

'Who, Zabini?' Ron raised his eyebrows.

'Yeah,' Harry nodded, 'he was really friendly; told me to call him by his first name, too.'

'Really?' murmured Hermione, looking pleased for some reason. There was silence for a few seconds as they all thought about the weird Slytherins.

'Do you think it's a conspiracy?' Ron suddenly asked.

'What?' Harry and Hermione both looked round at him, taken aback.

'Maybe it's some sort of Slytherin plan,' he explained in a confidential whisper to them. 'You know, being nice to us to lure us into a trap or ...'

'Ron,' Hermione groaned, 'you're doing it again! You're stereotyping the Slytherins!'

'What –?' Ron began, looking scandalised, but Hermione cut him off.

'Really, Ron, you have to stop this. Just because they're Slytherins and being civil to us, it doesn't mean that they're conspiring against us!'

'Well, can you blame me?' Ron was defensive. 'All these years, those snakes have not been exactly "nice" to us. And now, all of a sudden, they're acting like we've been best friends forever; how can you blame me for being suspicious?'

Despite Harry being all up for giving Slytherins a chance at friendship now, she could sort of see the sense in his exaggerated words and was about to reply when Hermione snapped, 'It would certainly seem suspicious if they _all_ acted friendly, Ron, but we don't know for sure whether the rest of the Slytherins have been civil to others today; so, you can't possibly say – _Seamus, what happened to you_?!'

Harry and Ron both turned their heads and saw Seamus, sporting a black eye and a shit-eating grin, and followed by a half-irritated half-amused Dean, approaching them. The Irishman greeted them brightly as he sat down beside Ron. Dean seated himself on his best friend's other side.

'Are you alright?' Harry asked, eyeing Seamus' bruised eye with some concern.

He grinned at her as he helped himself to his lunch. 'Yep.'

'What happened?' asked Hermione, worried despite her housemate's easygoingness.

Seamus just laughed and Dean found himself, once again, in charge of explaining his best friend's twisted mind and actions to their mutual friends. 'Seamus got a little ... overeager while trying to _befriend_ his Slytherin partner after Potions.'

All of them, apart from Seamus who smirked proudly, looked at Dean with questioning eyes.

The dark-skinned teen sighed. 'Millicent Bulstrode thought he was trying to put the moves on her,' he explained bluntly, rolling his eyes at the sandy haired boy on his right.

Understanding dawned upon his friends. 'Ah,' Ron snorted while Harry sniggered into her hand.

'So she punched you in the eye?' Hermione said, looking torn between wanting to laugh and rushing to examine Seamus' injured eye.

'And gave him one heck of a slap round the face,' Dean added with some amusement as he pointed to Seamus' left cheek which had a red mark in the shape of a hand on it. 'We've been told that the sound of that slap was heard two corridors away.'

Ron and Harry laughed uproariously at that while Hermione bit back a smile. 'Are you sure you're not hurt?' she asked Seamus, though it was quite obvious that he _was_ hurt.

Seamus waved her away carelessly. 'I'm fine, Hermione, no big deal.'

Ron looked shrewdly at him. 'You're actually proud of yourself, aren't you?' he remarked, eyeing the arrogant smirk on his face.

The eccentric boy shrugged before grinning brightly. 'Ah, I know she likes me; she just hasn't realised it yet. You wait; she'll be my friend in no time! And ... maybe ...' he gave a kinky smile, 'maybe even more than a friend if she wants to.'

Ron coughed in surprise. 'Say what?'

'I mean it. She's not half bad-looking, you know. And she's got a fiery temper! I like that.'

The red-head rolled his eyes and sighed. 'Well, I've decided: I can't believe I'm saying this, but I definitely feel sorrier for Bulstrode than I do for Seamus.'

The entire group burst out laughing at that.

'Poor, defenceless Millicent Bulstrode,' Harry said teasingly as she grinned at Seamus across the table, 'to fall victim to the clutches of the notorious Seamus Finnegan.'

'Oh, don't worry, I'll make sure she _likes_ being my victim,' the mischievous boy cracked.

Ron pretended to gag and Harry choked back a laugh.

Hermione just rolled her eyes before looking superciliously at Ron. 'Well, Ron, it seems like not all Slytherins are being friendly; can't be a conspiracy then, can it?' She smiled smugly at him; Ron frowned slightly at her, but then admitted defeat for the time being and shrugged the whole situation away.

Harry checked her watch. 'It's almost time for Transfiguration. Let's go.'

* * *

'Wow, McGonagall was being nice today,' Ron remarked as they left the classroom and headed towards their last class which was Charms. 'No homework at all.'

'Yes,' agreed Harry, 'but you have to admit, that was an interesting class!' She looked teasingly at Ron who promptly scowled and turned away from her with a dignified look on his face. Harry could not hold back the laughter and Hermione soon joined in.

Professor McGonagall, after briskly welcoming them back to the school and unloading an expected lecture on their heads about how tough their upcoming exams would be, – ('Why can't she be like Slughorn?' Ron had groused under his breath at this point. 'He didn't lecture us about NEWTS at all!) – had handed each of them a small, albino ferret. It just so happened that these ferrets looked exactly like the one the imposter Moody had transfigured Draco Malfoy into in their fourth year; and none of the students who had been witnesses to that incident had forgotten it. Practically every head in the classroom, Harry's, Ron's and even Hermione's included, had turned around to look at the unfortunate aristocrat. Most of the students had been unable to cover up their hilarity at the situation.

Harry, in spite of the mild malicious amusement she had felt as the hilarious memories surfaced, had also felt a little sorry for Malfoy who had inevitably become the butt end of an unintended joke. The feeling had intensified when she saw his lips tighten into a thin line as he gazed down at the little white creature on his table with undisguised aversion.

Hermione, for her part, had quite disapproved of the students who had – very quietly – made fun of the Malfoy heir among themselves. But Ron, on the other hand, had been smirking openly at the white-blond (Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, was one of his favourite memories) – until McGonagall had abruptly announced that they would be practising turning the ferret into a weasel. Needless to say, Ron had been Highly Affronted, especially when Malfoy shot Ron's smirk right back at him.

'That is not funny, Harry,' he growled now, his pride wounded.

Harry continued to laugh as she elbowed him playfully in the ribs. 'Oh, take it easy, Ron.'

'Yes, Ron,' Hermione spoke up, slightly frowning at the teen now that her laughter had subsided, 'if people are allowed to make fun of Malfoy, then, pray tell, why shouldn't we laugh at you?'

'Wha – but ... ugh, that's completely beside the point!'

'Is not, Ron, and you –'

'We're here,' Harry interrupted them quickly before they got into one of their famous arguments.

Professor Flitwick was perched upon his customary stack of books when they entered the Charms classroom. His face lit up at the sight of them and he greeted the trio with cheerful enthusiasm. Harry was glad that, despite his obvious joy at their presence in his class, he did not pay particular regard to her or mention Voldemort or anything that would make the other students turn their attention on her; she was getting tired of all the awestruck and worshipful looks she was continuously receiving.

It was while they were taking their seats that Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini entered the room in all their Slytherin grandeur, causing a considerable number of the girls present in the room to break out into giggles and hushed whispers at the sight of the blond wizard. Harry could not help but feel slightly surprised when she noticed this. She watched with some confusion as Lavender and Parvati, sitting a few seats away, made coy, doe eyes at the aloof aristocrat; something they had never done before.

_What's going on?_ She had never seen Malfoy receive such feminine attention. Certainly, he had grown up to be a handsome man, she admitted grudgingly to herself, but he had been reasonably good-looking before this year even, but girls had not reacted to him in this way before (except, maybe, for some Slytherin girls like Pansy Parkinson). 

_What the –?_

Her confusion was cleared up when she overheard some murmurs from behind her:

'Oh, don't you think it's so _romantic_, to have a ring choose your perfect wife?'

'I know! It's like true love! Oh ... I so wish that _I_ was his true love; if only the ring came to me.'

'Me, too; especially since that ring is so beautiful! Oh, and don't you think it's so cute that Draco wears his ring for the whole world to see?'

'Mm hmm, but it's kind of sad because it's like he's telling everyone that he's already taken ... oh, what wouldn't I give to have a chance with him? He's so hot!'

'Aw, are you jealous? Huh, can't say I blame you; I feel the same! I'll probably end up beating up his fiancée when she finally reveals herself and –'

Harry tuned out the voices of the two girls sitting behind her and gritted her teeth, irritated and embarrassed. _So that explains it_.

Everyone knew about Malfoy's mysterious engagement, thanks to the media, and most of Hogwart's female population thought that it was – Harry grimaced – "romantic", and wished to be – she almost groaned in disgust – his little "fiancée". Unconsciously, she fingered the engagement ring on her finger over the thin material of the black glove, her eyes following the movements of the platinum-haired teen as he sat down with his friend a few seats away from Harry, Ron and Hermione, and leaned back in his chair, looking bored. He was either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the females in the classroom; she decided that it was the latter: not only was Malfoy not that dense, but the hushed whispers were audible enough and none of the enamoured girls were masking the adoring looks on their faces as they simpered hopefully at him.

_If only they knew_, she thought heavily, still fingering the ring. _I wonder what they'll think if they knew that _I_ got his ring._ Without giving the action any conscious thought, Harry tugged on the ring as she had become accustomed to doing over the past three months. The effort was futile and the ring remained stubbornly on her finger.

A sudden bout of giggles from behind her caught her attention and she turned slightly in her seat to see one of the girls sitting behind her, a Ravenclaw whose name Harry did not know, batting her eyelashes at someone. Knowing perfectly well who it was, Harry glanced around and resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she saw that the girl behind her had succeeded in catching Draco Malfoy's eyes. He looked back at the girl coolly and she simpered sickeningly at him, flipping her honey-blonde hair as she did so. Harry almost snorted. A moment later, a flicker of disgust appeared in Malfoy's eyes and with a distinct curling of the upper lip, he looked away from the girl. She looked absolutely heart broken at this.

It was all Harry could do to keep from yanking at her hair and screaming her lungs out. Here she was, seemingly the only girl in all of Hogwarts (or the classroom at present) who did not find the idea of being Draco Malfoy's fiancée appealing! But Life was such a vixen that it had chosen her, of all women, to be cursed with the confounded engagement ring! She had never wanted this. Why, if she could, she would rip it off her finger in less than a second and give it to one of these crazed classmates who would make good use of it. Or, maybe she would just happily shove it up Malfoy's rear end; oh, yeah, that was certainly much more tempting.

_Just what kind of screwed up wishes did he make that the thing had to come to me?_

It was while she had sunk into these gloomy thoughts that she felt a pair of eyes on her. Raising her eyes from where she had been frowning in a disheartened manner at the table, she felt a jolt of surprise rush through her when she saw Malfoy watching her calmly. Her eyes widened a fraction. _Why is he looking at me like that?_

There was no smirk on his face, no cold laughter in his eyes, yet he did not appear expressionless as he contemplated her silently. There was something about his face that made him look as if he were almost thoughtful as he continued to stare at her unabashedly. In fact, he did not even seem to have realised that he was staring.

The intensity in his eyes brought a light blush to Harry's cheeks but, not being one to turn down a challenge (whether it was an intended challenge or not) of any sort from the man that had once struggled with all his might to make her days at Hogwarts a living Hell, she gazed back defiantly at him, keeping her face devoid of any emotions and her eyes aloof. This staring contest lasted only for less than three seconds for Professor Flitwick chose to officially begin the lesson at that point, but to Harry, it seemed to stretch on for three lifetimes before Malfoy quickly broke eye contact; he turned away from her with a hint of red on his cheeks – visible even from that distance thanks to his alabaster skin complexion – as if he had just noticed what he had been doing.

Idly wondering what that had been all about, Harry turned her attention on their diminutive teacher and ignored the heat in her cheeks.

Professor Flitwick welcomed them back to their last year in Hogwarts in his usual cheerful manner and then, sounding uncannily like their Transfiguration teacher, explained to them how important their NEWTs were and what they could expect to come in their examinations. By the time he was through, most of the class looked exactly like they had done after McGonagall's similar harangue: ashen and slightly nauseous. Even Harry felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and a throbbing in her head, much like she had done on the first day of her fifth year when all the teachers had lectured them about the OWLs. She really wished that their professors would stop with those speeches; they did little to encourage the students and more to depress them.

A squeaky laugh escaped Flitwick when he saw their pale faces and traumatised eyes. 'I know it sounds scary,' he chirped, smiling, 'but it is the truth, so all the more reason for you to try your best. I would advise you to start learning and revising even now, but ...' he paused, looking around at their downcast faces, 'I shall keep the workload light today.'

The mood in the classroom lifted immediately and Flitwick chuckled good-naturedly.

'I shall start the class in a few minutes, but if any of you have any questions regarding the lessons you will be learning this year or your exams or anything related to Charms, you may ask me now.'

Harry leaned back in her seat comfortably when her classmates began shooting their questions at their professor. Most of them were about their lessons and she tuned them out, uninterested. A few minutes later, she found her eyes wandering out of boredom; she looked around at her classmates, locating familiar faces and noting missing ones, before her eyes locked on Malfoy again. He was not looking at her anymore, but she gazed at him, nonetheless, feelings of confusion and wonderment rising within her and her scattered thoughts returned to their "engagement".

She had never deeply considered why the ring had come to her before, being as intent as she had been on just solely removing it from her finger. But now she genuinely wondered (calmly, this time) why she had been the one chosen. According to Ginny, the enchanted ring chose a person according to the wishes made by the wisher. So, why had it been her? There was just no possibility that she was the sort of woman Draco Malfoy would have wished for.

As if to prove this to herself, Harry observed the wizard more closely. He was so different from her, even physically. His hair was that strange shade of blond, so fair that it almost appeared white, whereas hers was darker than the darkest of black; not to mention the fact that his was well groomed and in no way messy like hers. His eyes were grey tinged with silver while hers were bright green. Even their skin tones were different; hers was several shades darker than Malfoy's pale, alabaster complexion. There was also the fact that he was a handsome man. She, in her opinion, did not even come close to beautiful.

However, the most important differences existed between their backgrounds and their personalities. He was a somewhat cold person, haughty and aloof (unless he was off taunting at Gryffindors and lesser souls – which he had not done recently to Harry's knowledge) and kept a distance between himself and the world around him with the exception of a few privileged people like Blaise Zabini, and Crabbe and Goyle before him. Also, he had been brought up in an upper-class atmosphere, and being the sole heir of one of the most influential and wealthiest families in the Wizarding World, Malfoy also had that spark of arrogance and proud dignity that Harry had yet to witness in another man who was as young as him.

But Harry? She was nothing like him. She was a warm and loving person by nature and she had never kept up a dignified barrier between herself and others. Harry was also a humble woman, born with a strong sense of morality, and did not care for status and class despite her remarkable inheritance.

Such were their personalities; Hariah Potter and Draco Malfoy were polar opposites in every aspect of the word. He was an ice prince and she was a fiery tomboy.

_And yet, the ring still chose me; how is that possible? Malfoy would never want someone like me. His ideal woman would be a high-born, pure-blooded witch with social power and wealth; not to mention beauty and true femininity. I'm nothing like that! And even if he and I were to marry – _Harry sneered at the ludicrous thought – _it would never work! We can't even stand each other's presence!_

She fingered the ring thoughtfully again, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Was it really possible that the ring had made a mistake? Perhaps all this was just a misunderstanding? The more Harry thought about it, the more she grew convinced of it. Malfoy simply could not have wished for her, but the ring or the magic on it had malfunctioned and it had come to her by mistake. _A mistake_, Harry told herself though she knew that there would be some people who would not share her view point. But the reasoning she had come up with was good enough for her and she grew more determined to remove the ring and return the thing to Malfoy – anonymously, of course.

'_PRO-FESS-OR_!'

Harry, Ron and Hermione all jumped in surprise at the high-pitched screech that sounded from behind them. 'Bloody Hell –!' Ron turned around in his seat to glare at the honey-blonde haired girl who ignored him and continued to wave her hand in the air – not necessary since every single person in the classroom was now giving her their undivided attention.

'Ye – yes?' a startled Professor Flitwick squeaked, as he placed a hand over his heart. 'What's wrong, dear?'

'Oh, sorry, Professor,' the girl sang, not sounding apologetic at all, 'but I had a very important question to ask.'

'What the hell!' Ron cursed under his breath. 'She screamed that loud all 'cause of a ...'

'Yes, yes, of course; go ahead,' said Flitwick with a lot more composure than before.

The girl smiled sweetly. 'Well, sir, I was wondering,' she turned her eyes on Malfoy and Harry tensed as she realised what the girl was going to ask, 'what can you tell us about enchanted wizarding engagement rings?'

* * *

Blaise almost guffawed loudly at the girl's question and barely just managed to limit the outward show of his hysterics to a mere smirk. This was made all the more difficult by the fact that beside him, Draco had become positively murderous at the impertinence of the girl; his lips had thinned and his eyes had grown as icy as a polar glacier as he shot her a death-glare, not bothering to mask his venom. The smirk on Blaise' face broadened; all this was really just too entertaining.

Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick had lost his composure again. 'Why – I – I ...' he spluttered, '... young lady, please stick to the topic! Ask me anything, but the question must be related to Charms!' He was obviously trying to get his senses back together once more.

'But Professor,' the girl whined; Blaise could have sworn he heard Draco grinding his teeth at that moment, 'it _is_ related to Charms! Aren't those rings enchanted? And aren't enchantments a part of Charms? _Please_, sir, tell us about them!'

'This – this is hardly appropriate!' Flitwick blustered shrilly, looking extremely embarrassed. With a raised eyebrow, Blaise wondered why that was, but then he saw their teacher shoot a very apologetic look at a still furious Draco. _Ah, I see_. So, even the teachers knew about Draco's engagement (who didn't?). _But at least they have the tact not to harp on about it in front of him and they respect his privacy_, Blaise mused, _unlike most of the girls here_.

'Aw, Professor, please? Surely you must know all about enchanted rings!' It was not only that girl alone this time, Blaise noted, but even some of the other girls had joined her. As his eyes passed from female to female, he was half-surprised to see that some of the people that he would never have thought would ever have a crush on Draco Malfoy were teaming up with that honey-haired girl. Why, even those two Gryffindor airheads – what were their names again? Priya and Laura? – were making the goo-goo eyes at Draco! _Every single girl in the class_, Blaise sniggered slightly to himself, highly amused.

No, not everyone, he soon realised. The Granger girl was not part of the newly formed Draco Malfoy fan club if the look of disapproval and pity on her face was any indication. And even his Potions partner ... Blaise raised his eyebrows as he gazed curiously at Hariah Potter. She was obviously not going insane like the rest of her female classmates, however her expression was ... strange. She was looking between their teacher and the honey-haired girl with a peculiar look on her face, and she occasionally glanced in Draco's direction with apprehensive eyes. _What's up with her?_

That was when Blaise noticed it: she was fiddling with something on her left hand; or to be more precise, her finger. However, he could not see what it was because – he squinted at her hand; was that a glove she was wearing? He eyed the black-haired girl with avid curiosity; as far as he knew, Hariah Potter was not the sort of person who would be affected by anything that happened to Draco Malfoy. But he could clearly see now that something was bothering her. And what was she playing around with on her finger? _Hmm_. Perhaps he was thinking too much on this, but Blaise got a feeling that there was something more to this than what met the eye.

Professor Flitwick was at a loss for words; that Ravenclaw girl was being bold to the point of insolence! He drew himself up – not that he looked any taller than he already was – and answered authoritatively, 'That question, dear girl, is not related to our syllabus; however, if you want to find out about them, I suggest you look in the library.'

'But –!'

'_No_,' Flitwick said firmly.

The girl, and the rest of her Draco-crazed friends and classmates, sighed in disappointment. But then she looked up with twinkling eyes and Blaise immediately knew that whatever she was about to say would not be wise and would probably result in an even more murderous Draco Malfoy – if such a thing was possible.

'Actually, Professor, I don't think there is any need to go to the library; after all, we have the expert right here!' She smiled flirtatiously at the blond Slytherin while Flitwick opened his mouth indignantly at her insolent behaviour, but seemed unable to decide what to say.

Blaise gazed at Draco out of the corner of his eyes and was not surprised to see that his friend's eyes were burning with silver flames of fury and his hands were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. It was really impressive, Blaise thought, that Draco had managed to gather up enough self control so that he was able to keep any expressions off his face, though, no doubt, all he must want to do at that second was to snarl like an untamed animal and rip the girl limb from limb for humiliating him like that.

_I must admit that I feel rather sorry for him._

'So, Draco,' the girl cooed and flipped her honey-blonde hair, seemingly forgetting that they were currently in a classroom filled with some thirty or so students and a teacher, 'why don't you tell us about your engagement?' She batted her eyelashes at him in a sickening manner. 'Do you think that any of us might get your ring?' (Translation: 'Do _I_ stand a chance of getting your ring?')

The Slytherin in question did not dignify her question with an answer, but continued to glare venomously at her. Either she was ignoring his fury or was so dense that she did not sense it, but her sweet smile did not falter even for a second.

'Well, what do you think, _Drakie_?'

_Drakie?? Ooh, big mistake_.

Blaise lost all control of himself at the nickname and he dropped his head into his hands as he struggled in vain to muffle his boisterous laughter. He was not the only one. All over the classroom, most of the boys were in similar states. He could hear easily hear their mirth-filled hysterics, especially the hooting guffaws of one Ron Weasley.

_Oh Merlin, I can't believe she actually called him Drakie!_ Blaise clutched his stomach, unable to control his laughter. He did not dare lift up his head to look at his friend seated beside him; no doubt that the blond would positively murder him later on for "betraying" him, but honestly, could you blame Blaise for laughing at Draco's expense? Who would _not_ laugh if they heard a girl call their aloof best friend "Drakie"? Blaise continued to guffaw into his hand.

Though he could not see Draco, Blaise knew that he was probably trying to kill the girl with his eyes; it was a pity that Draco was not a Basilisk. The temperature in the classroom seemed to drop as the blond's anger rose. A full twenty seconds later, Blaise heard him growl through gritted teeth, 'None. Of. Your. Business.'

'Aw, Drakie –' the girl began, but Draco cut her off and this time, the full wrath of his anger was audible in every syllable.

'You are not even worth my time; I have nothing more to say to you.'

It was probably his tone of voice more so than his words that finally shut the girl up. Blaise finally raised his head and saw that she looked both surprised and incredibly hurt at Draco's hostility. _Well, she deserved it._ He glanced hesitantly to his left and with a start, saw that Draco was glaring right at him with a look in his eyes that clearly said, 'I'll deal with you later, you traitor!'

Blaise just smirked innocently at him, knowing full well that it would only serve to increase Draco's ire. And sure enough, his friend scowled at him in irritation before haughtily turning away.

Professor Flitwick was finally able to speak. 'That is quite enough of that!' he barked, sounding very unlike himself as he looked pointedly at the Ravenclaw girl. 'If any of you bring up this topic again, he or she will suffer detention for the whole of this term, is that understood?'

When the students finally murmured 'Yes, sir', Flitwick turned away from them to write on the board. But before that, Blaise saw the Charms Professor shoot another apologetic look at Draco who, still too busy glaring at the honey-haired Ravenclaw, did not notice it. The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence and obedient charm work, but the other students, especially the girls, were still wont to shoot coy looks at Draco, and some of the boys occasionally smirked at him. Draco studiously turned a blind eye to all this, but Blaise could sense his still present anger though it had lessened somewhat.

The bell finally rang and it was a welcome sound to the Malfoy heir though he did not show it. He packed his things with impressive calm and left with Blaise by his side, head held high and eyes cold and not meeting anyone else's gaze. As they headed with the rest of the students towards the Great Hall for dinner, Blaise finally asked quietly, 'Are you calm yet?'

Draco looked at him witheringly.

Blaise shrugged, his lips turning up into a small smirk. 'I was just checking whether or not you would be treating me to a slow and painful death anytime soon, Draco.'

He scowled again. 'And, pray tell, why should I not do it, Blaise? You sided against me!'

'Oh, come now, Draco, don't be foolish. I am your friend.'

'_Friends_, Zabini, do not laugh at their friends' misfortunes.'

Blaise looked amusedly at Draco as they descended a staircase. 'Rest assured, Drake, I was not laughing at _you_ – but rather at that droll nickname the Ravenclaw girl gave you.'

His friend looked ready to commit murder again. 'It's not funny, Blaise!'

'Oh, shut it. Just be grateful she only called you Drakie and not something even more pathetic like, say ... Drakie-_poo_?'

Draco looked absolutely disgusted and Blaise laughed.

'That no-good vixen,' the blond wizard growled, eyes spitting fire again. 'I knew before I came here that I would have to face comments from people about my engagement; but I never thought that there would be such – such ... such _insolent_ girls! How dare she ...'

'She was being pretty impertinent,' Blaise agreed. 'To say all that in class – even Flitwick was shocked.'

'And the nerve of her, hinting that _she_ might get the ring!' Draco went on scornfully, ignoring Blaise. 'As if she would ever be my fiancée! Her type of women is the very sort that I would never even dream of marrying no matter how desperate I become!'

'Of course not,' Blaise said in a soothing manner, knowing perfectly that Draco would not calm down until he had ranted his frustration well out of his system.

'Why, I even would rather marry Hariah Potter than that air-headed blonde!'

'Yes, yes, you – what?' Blaise looked around in shock at the Malfoy heir. Draco stopped dead in his tracks when he realised what he had said. Neither spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Blaise got over the shock and he leered, 'Oh, you would, would you, Drake?'

Draco struggled to regain his composure, but was unable to cover the flush in his cheeks. 'Come on, Blaise, you know full well what I meant by that. I was just emphasising how much I dislike that Ravenclaw.'

'You dislike her to the point that you would even marry Hariah Potter instead of her if it ever came to that?' Blaise snickered.

Draco frowned. 'It was a figure of speech, Blaise; why do you take it so seriously?'

'But, _would_ you marry her, Draco?' Blaise pressed, ignoring his question.

His friend opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him as he waited patiently for the answer. Draco gave a light shake of his head before heading for the Great Hall again.

'Don't be absurd, Blaise,' he muttered quietly. 'Why would I ever want to marry Potter?'

Blaise followed him, smiling slightly. 'In all honesty, Draco, I don't think it would be unpleasant to marry her; she is, after all, one of the few girls in this place who still actually has a spark of decency and humility left in her; not to mention the fact that she does possess some intelligence and a charismatic nature. And though she's certainly no great beauty, she's grown up to be somewhat attractive. Even you must agree with that though you don't like the girl.'

Draco did not reply.

His mood remained somewhat gloomy throughout dinner and was unresponsive whenever Blaise tried to engage him in conversation. Blaise finally gave up on him and they walked back to their common room in silence. It was only after they entered their empty dormitory that Draco finally cheered up at seeing that he had received an owl from his mother.

Eagerly, he reached for the letter.

* * *

**A/N: Aww, poor Drakie-poo - but how could I resist torturing him? XD Seriously, I enjoyed writing this chapter way more than I should have. LOL  
**

**And to keep your spirits up - and also 'cause I don't want any of my readers to die from suspense like some have told me they are 0_o" -: Draco WILL find out about Harry quite soon, K? Most likely after the 13th or 14th chappy; but don't depend too much on my words - my guesses tend to be inaccurate when it comes to my own writing (a perfect example would be when I set out to write a 5000 word one-shot that ended up being 19000 words! X.x). But, honestly though, you don't expect Draco to find out so soon, do you? There's no fun in that! ;) **

**On a totally random note: Yay, I finally got "The Tales of Beedle the Bard"! Brilliantly creative fairytales, I must say. Heh, JKR never ceases to amuse me. :3  
**

**COMING SOON: CHAPTER NINE: _Tying Up Loose Ends_**


	9. Tying Up Loose Ends

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: A quick update to make up for that long absence. :) **

**Also, I know I've said this before, but - since I feel bad about not being able to reply to your comments - I want to thank my anonymous reviewers again (and probably will do so again and again) for your feedback! Some of you have commented on all of my stories (yes, I recognise your names XD) and I want y'all to know how much your encouragement means to me! You guys rock my world! XD  
**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER NINE: TYING UP LOOSE ENDS**

'Oh, Merlin, I swear that I'm going to drop dead from sleep deprivation today,' Ron yawned widely as he, Harry and Hermione sat down to breakfast the next day. 'I'm so tired.'

'What, didn't you get enough sleep last night?' Ginny's voice sounded from behind him.

'Morning, Ginny,' Harry greeted her as she sat down beside her.

The youngest Weasley returned the greeting before turning back to her brother. 'So, what was it about dropping dead from sleep deprivation? Were you up all night?'

Ron just grunted as he filled his bowl with porridge and left it to Hermione to answer for him.

'I suppose you could say that.'

The red-haired girl frowned at the older girl. 'And why is that?'

Before Hermione could reply, Ron looked up and directed a half-hearted glare at Harry. 'Ask _her_.'

The Chosen One had the grace to look slightly ashamed and she lowered her eyes guiltily. 'I already said I was sorry; but I was desperate! After hearing those stuff that Ravenclaw girl said in Flitwick's class yesterday and all those girls swooning over him – I got scared, OK! I just really needed to find a way to take the bloody thing off. '

'Yes, but that's no excuse to keep us going through those bloody books till _four in the morning_! I'll be lucky if I don't fall asleep halfway through class today!'

'Yeah, I know, I know; I'm sorry about that, Ron.'

'OK,' Ginny interrupted their talk, looking very confused, 'what're you talking about?'

'Well,' Hermione began, shooting Harry a small smile that had just a hint of irritation in it, 'Harry here dragged us to the library first thing after classes ended yesterday. She didn't even let us have dinner which I believe is the major cause for your brother's crankiness.'

'I see,' Ginny murmured. 'What were you searching for?'

Hermione smiled wryly. 'Why don't you make a guess?'

The younger girl frowned slightly as she contemplated the reasons and glanced at Harry; the raven-haired witch avoided her eyes and tried to fight down the light blush on her cheeks, but to no avail. A few more seconds passed before Ginny finally understood. She laughed.

'My, my, Harry,' she teased, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief, 'eager to get away from Malfoy, aren't you?'

Harry just gave her an indignant look before turning back to her toast.

Ginny chuckled again before asking, 'So, did you find anything helpful?'

'No,' Harry grumbled, but did not elaborate.

Ginny turned to Hermione for information.

'The library doesn't have a lot of books about wizarding engagement rings,' Hermione informed the curious sixth year. 'In fact, it took us the better part of four hours to find even a single book about them. And even that one mentioned only how and when enchanted rings were first created and the complex spells used and things like that. Not a word about how the rings can be removed; such a waste for four hours of hard work!' Hermione frowned in disgust.' And when it was time to close the library, we hid under Harry's Invisibility Cloak until Madam Pince left and spent the next few hours trying to find more books, but we couldn't find anymore.'

'What?' Ginny's eyes widened. 'You spent that much time trying to ... well, how come you didn't ask the librarian for help? She could've found the books for you.'

The bushy-haired girl smiled wryly at her again before glancing at Harry. 'I almost did; but she wouldn't let me ask Madam Pince.'

With a furrowed brow, Ginny turned to Harry and asked, 'Why was that?'

Harry took her time chewing and swallowing her omelette. With deliberate slowness, she took a long drink from her goblet – Ginny's eyebrow twitched in annoyance – and wiped her mouth with the napkin before answering indifferently, 'I just didn't want to ask her.'

Ginny snorted. 'C'mon, you and I both know that's not it. Spill, Harry!'

She sighed. Ginny really was a headstrong girl – a Weasley trait; and she would not stop badgering her until she answered truthfully.

As if the red-head had read her mind and wanted to prove it, she gave Harry a playful shove. 'Come _on_!'

'Fine! It's just that I ... I just ...' Harry fought down a blush again, 'I didn't want her to ... you know, get suspicious.'

'Huh?'

Harry sent her a frustrated look. 'Geez, Ginny, you know what I mean! If I asked Pince where I could find information about blasted engagement rings, she might've possibly thought that I am one of Malfoy's disgusting fan girls, or worse! I mean, everyone knows about Malfoy and his rings, right? And I wouldn't want her to think that I am ...'

Ginny smirked. 'That ... _you're_ his _fi-an-cée_?' She drew out the three syllables of the last word, all the while grinning teasingly at the raven-haired girl beside her.

Harry scowled.

The younger girl chuckled as did Hermione. 'Seriously, Harry,' Ginny chided, 'so what if anyone suspects that you're his fiancée? What can they do about it?'

'They might tell Malfoy!'

'So?'

Harry gaped at her. 'What do you mean, "so"?'

Ginny rolled her eyes as she reached for a crumpet. 'So what if he finds out that you got his ring? What's the big deal?'

'Are – you – insane?'

'_What_ is the big deal about it?'

Harry stared open mouthed at the auburn haired witch who was looking calmly at her. 'I just don't want him to know,' she finally answered quietly.

'And _why_ is that?' It was Hermione who spoke this time.

Harry could not think of an answer. It was a good question: _why_ did she not want him to know? What was the reason? That he was her rival? That it would be one of the most awkward situations she would ever face in her life?

'Ooh, are you scared of him?' Ginny teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Shaken out of her thoughts, Harry scoffed contemptuously at Ginny. 'Of course not! Why would I be scared of him?'

Ron nodded vigorously and grunted something indistinguishable through a mouthful of porridge to show his agreement.

'So, why won't you tell him?' Ginny challenged, throwing a mildly irked glance at her brother at the same time. 'Best case scenario is that he'll be as much repulsed by this engagement as you are and remove his ring from you at once, which, by the way, will save all of us a lot of time and trouble.'

'Er ...' Harry trailed off, slightly dazed at Ginny's bluntness. _Well, what she said _is_ true, I suppose_.

Ron raised his eyebrows sceptically. 'And worst case scenario is?'

His sister contemplated this for a moment before a fox-like grin spread across her pretty features. 'Worst case scenario?' she purred and Harry instinctively knew that she was not going to like what Ginny had to say. 'Hmm ... worst case scenario would probably be Malfoy declaring his undying love for our Harry and asking her to marry him!'

Ron choked on his porridge and Harry shot Ginny a sickened look.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked quite unaffected. 'Ask her to marry him?' she repeated blandly though her eyes gleamed with laughter. 'Why would he do that? They're already engaged, aren't they?'

Ginny rolled her eyes at the older girl. 'Oh, honestly, Hermione, don't you have a single romantic bone in your body?'

'Ah, I see; so you think it would be _romantic_ if he asked her to marry him even though she already has his ring. Well, in that case, that one should be the best case scenario instead of the worst; don't you think so, Ginny?'

'Hmm, yeah I guess you're right, Mione.'

'But it would certainly be a right sight for sore eyes – Malfoy proposing to Harry!'

'I think it would be cute! Just imagine – Draco Malfoy and Hariah Potter-Malfoy!'

They giggled hysterically like a pair of hyenas.

Harry and Ron followed this unusual banter with wide, alarmed eyes, their breakfasts utterly forgotten.

'Merlin, this is disturbing,' Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry could only shake her head helplessly. 'They really like the idea of my being married to Malfoy, don't they?'

The question was, _why_?

* * *

Draco drummed his fingers on the table, completely ignoring his breakfast and an irritated Blaise Zabini, keeping his eyes fixed determinedly on the high windows of the Great Hall through which the bright morning sunlight beamed into the room. Beside him, Blaise gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his toast, but eventually, the sound of Draco thrumming his fingers became just a tad too annoying.

'Draco, give it a rest!' Blaise hissed, finally giving up on his breakfast. 'Your impatience is not going to get the post owls to arrive any faster.'

His friend did not even bat an eyelash as he continued to await the arrival of the morning post, drumming his fingers even louder just to annoy the half-Italian. Blaise glared at him and Draco smirked at his ire, but otherwise did not acknowledge his fellow Slytherin. He was waiting for an important letter from his mother and, Merlin help him, he wanted it now!

Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, sensing that Draco's patience was wearing even thinner. 'You said that your mother promised you in her letter last night that she'll send you a detailed account today, Draco; be patient.'

'I know that, Blaise, but try to understand. Mother has not seen my Aunt Andromeda in over twenty years; and she only let me know last night that she was going to visit her. I want to know how it went.'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'I do understand, Draco, but your impatience is not going to help and, frankly, you're driving me insane!'

Draco just ignored him again and looked back up at the windows. _Why did she go to see Aunt Andromeda anyway?_ He mused. His mother had told him during his younger years that her parents had broken off all ties with Andromeda Black when she went against their wishes and married Ted Tonks, a Muggle-born. Narcissa had not seen her sister for a lifetime and Draco had yet to lay his eyes on her. Yet, last night, the brief letter that he had received from his mother had informed him that she was on her way to visit her sister and that she would tell him the details the next day, meaning today. Draco drummed his fingers again. His curiosity had nearly reached its peak.

At long last, the sun shining through the windows was blocked by the feathery mass of post owls that came swooping into the Great Hall and Draco straightened in his seat, searching for his owl. His eyes, however, locked on a single snow-white bird that stood out amongst all the brown and grey and it looked strangely familiar. He followed its graceful descent onto the Gryffindor table where it landed right in front of – Hariah Potter?

Draco blinked. _Of course, that's Potter's owl_. He watched discreetly as she carefully removed the letter from its leg and smoothed it out before proceeding to read it, all the while caressing the snowy owl's feathers tenderly with her free hand. Her lips twitched slightly as she read the letter and she turned her head to relate whatever it said to her two sidekicks. Draco sneered slightly at the sight. _She shares even her personal letters with her friends, does she?_ It quite escaped his attention that he had pretty much shared his mother's letter with Blaise as well the night before.

He continued to watch, forgetting that he was staring, as she responded to something Weasley said before turning back to her owl. Even from all the way across the Great Hall, Draco could see the genuine smile of thanks she bestowed upon her pet as she stroked it, and he felt slightly overwhelmed when he saw how her face lit up from the simple act; her smile, which he rarely got to see since she never smiled when he was in the vicinity, was beautiful to put it simply.

With a start, he realised what he had begun to think and he shook his head very slightly. He had lost himself again, just like the previous day during Charms, when he had seen that look on her face as she stared at her desk; she had looked as if she had been having a mental debate with herself and was unhappy with the results. Not unhappy as in genuinely saddened, but unhappy like how a toddler would feel if she was denied her favourite sweet. She had been almost pouting and Draco had unconsciously thought that she had looked almost ... cute. And he had caught himself staring at her.

He gritted his teeth. What was coming over him? First he had thought she was cute and now he found her smile nice? He shook his head again. She was not even pretty and he sure as hell did _not_ like her. However, as he cautiously glanced up at her through his lashes again, he could not deny that she was not ugly. Sure, like Blaise had said the day before, she was not beautiful; but she did have a strong, charismatic nature that drew people to her and she was ... attractive ... in her own special way.

_Good Lord, what am I thinking? That _Potter_ is _attractive_? What on_ _–?_ Draco hissed in pain as something nipped at his finger. He yanked his hand away, but relaxed at once when he saw that it was an owl that had bitten him; and not any owl, either, but his family's eagle owl.

'Roenan! Good, you're here,' he murmured and quickly reached to remove the letter it was carrying, but paused when he heard a chuckle from his left. Draco turned to look at Blaise with a cocked eyebrow. 'And what do you find so amusing, Blaise?'

His friend looked at him with a lopsided grin on his face. 'It's just that you were so eager to receive that letter earlier, Draco, but completely failed to notice the owl's presence when it finally arrived. I admire Roenan's patience; he waited three whole minutes before deciding to call your attention onto himself.' Blaise gave him a knowing smirk. 'Find it hard to take your eyes off Hariah Potter, do you?'

A pink tinge suffused over Draco's face. 'What are you blabbing about?' he hissed.

'Please, what do you take me for, a simpleton?' Blaise rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Do you honestly think that I don't who you were gawking at just now? And if I remember correctly, she caught your attention yesterday during Charms as well.'

Draco blinked before flushing deeply. _Damn it!_ He had thought (or rather, hoped) that Blaise had not noticed that.

'I was not –' he began, but stopped when Blaise gave him a haughty "please-stop-insulting-my-intelligence" look. Rolling his eyes, Draco swiftly rephrased what he had been about to say, 'I was merely looking at her ... owl, Blaise.' The lie sounded ridiculously pathetic, even to Draco's ears and he almost cringed at his stupidity.

The brunet had his customary annoying smirk on his face, the one he saved especially for his favourite past-time: pissing-off-Drake. 'Right,' he drawled, 'because you've never seen her snowy owl before, is that it?'

'Because I've always found snowy owls to be exceptionally beautiful; it has nothing to do with their _owners_!' Draco snapped, painfully aware that he was losing the battle here.

'Sure, sure,' Blaise said patronisingly and chuckled to himself; he clearly did not believe a word that Draco had said.

With as much haughty dignity as he could muster, Draco turned back to the impatient owl and removed the letter from its leg. Roenan gave him an owlishly irritated look before spreading his magnificent wings and taking flight again. Draco waved him off vaguely before eagerly unsealing the letter and unrolling it to find his mother's elegant script:

_Draco,_

_I have just come back from Andromeda's place and I must admit that her reception of me was not something I was expecting. I am so happy at the moment, Dragon; the visit went so very well, even better than I had allowed myself to hope._

_However, before I tell you about it, I would like to apologise for not giving the reason behind all of this in my letter to you yesterday. I know that you must be wondering why I suddenly made the decision to renew my – our – relationship with my sister after over twenty years of no contact. The simplest explanation I can give on this is that I want my family back intact again. Confused? Let me explain._

_Andromeda is all that's left of my broken family; and, of course, her grandson, Teddy Lupin. The War has ended and Andromeda and I are, once more, back on the same side. I do not want to live the rest of my life without at least making an effort to tie up loose ends with her. She is, after all, my sister and both of us are the last of the Blacks. With our deaths, the family line will dissolve into nothing but a memory of a great clan that once existed and I do not want the Black clan to fade away on a bitter note with its members divided by their beliefs and differences. I want to die, Draco, with the happy knowledge and satisfaction that I made my family one and whole again._

_Also, I wanted to ask for her forgiveness. I, like so many others, have been blinded and brainwashed by the Dark Lord; but no more. I have seen the error of my ways and I know that I was in the wrong and have treated my sister despicably, especially when my parents decided to make her an outcast. I wanted to – no, I __needed to know that she could forgive my actions and can accept me back as her sibling._

_Now, with the explanation out of the way, let's move on to the visit. Andromeda was very surprised when I showed up on her doorstep; understandable as I had given her no prior warning of my coming. However, in spite of my fears that she would turn me away without so much as giving me the opportunity to speak, she invited me in to her house – and, at length, back into her life. I never dreamt that Andromeda would accept my apologies so readily; in fact, I had had almost no hope that she would even acknowledge me as family. Indeed, I had quite forgotten how merciful and kind-hearted my sister truly is and I feel all the more guilt-ridden because of it. I do not deserve her forgiveness, though she claims otherwise._

_I shall not bore you with unnecessary details of my visit. Just know that we have put our differences behind us and all is solved, from the matter of our beliefs about Muggle-borns to that of the Dark Lord. We are once again part of a family one and whole and I, for one, cannot express how truly ecstatic I am! I have achieved that which I have been dreaming of for the past several months and now can sleep in peace once more._

_I should also probably tell you that Andromeda has expressed great desire in meeting you, Dragon; after all, she has not had the pleasure of seeing you yet. Eager as I am to strengthen and maintain the renewed bonds between us, I offered to introduce you to her at the earliest opportunity which leads me to the question: do you have any objections to coming home for the Christmas holidays, Draco? I know it is too early for me to ask this, but Andromeda has very kindly invited us to spend the holidays with her and her grandson. However, if you would rather remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, I would, of course, understand and rearrange our meeting with her. Please send me a reply soon, Dragon._

_And now, before I say good bye, has your fiancée approached you by any chance, Draco? I know that it has been only a day since your return to Hogwarts, but I simply just had to ask. I am very eager to know the identity of the girl that I shall soon be calling my daughter-in-law. Whoever the girl is, Dragon, please do not hesitate to tell me. I meant my words when I told you that your father and I have complete faith in your judgement and we shall respect your decisions. We shall accept her as ours, no matter who she is._

_And now I must leave. A ministry official has arrived and I suspect that he has news of Lucius' sentence. If it is anything important, I shall inform you. I trust that your reply will reach me soon._

_With love,_

_Mother_

Draco stared silently down at the letter. To be truthful, he did not really know what to think. He had never met Andromeda before so it was not very easy for him to understand his mother's perspective of things. He supposed that he did understand somewhat what had driven her to make amends with her sister, but other than that ... well ... he did not know; he felt completely neutral about it. But it was an interesting turn of events, nevertheless. Though he had not bothered to ask his mother about Andromeda, there had been times when he had wondered what his unknown aunt was like. Now there was a chance to get to know her; and judging by how happy his mother sounded, he supposed that he would like her.

He perused the letter again. This time, another name jumped out at him: Teddy Lupin. Draco raised an eyebrow. _Lupin?_ It was a few seconds before he remembered: _Ah, of course! Aunt Andromeda's daughter married the werewolf. Teddy must be their son._ It took another few seconds for him to recall that the both of them had died in the War. He did not know what to think about that, either. He had not known either of them personally (unless you counted the fact that Remus Lupin had been his former teacher) and there was the fact that they had been on opposite sides of the battlefield until the last moment.

Draco shook his head. His family might have changed sides, but there were still a lot of things to be sorted in his mind, which included his feelings about ... well, a lot of things, apparently. Like how he was supposed to be feeling about the deaths of people who he had not cared about before, and how he was supposed to react to Andromeda Black-Tonks, whom he had been led to believe was a blood-traitor before some sense had been knocked into his family's brains.

He did not feel Blaise's concerned eyes on him as he allowed his mind to wander. Blaise watched him silently for a few more minutes before turning away, leaving his friend to his thoughts. Whatever the letter had been about and had turned Draco into a mute, Draco would tell him when he was ready. And if he did not feel like sharing, then Blaise would not press him. If it was anything urgent, he knew that Draco would tell him eventually.

He pushed the matter out of his mind.

* * *

'Who was the letter from, Harry?' asked Ron curiously as he watched Harry put away the small roll of parchment in her pocket.

'Hagrid,' she answered simply, pushing her plate of sausages towards Selene as a reward. As Harry smiled at her, the snowy owl gave her an adoring look – which was agonisingly reminiscent of the affectionate looks Hedwig used to give her – before she dipped her head into the plate and began to help herself to Harry's breakfast. Harry had to make a conscious effort to tear her eyes away from the bird; she had come to love Selene who was as faithful an owl as she could hope for, but the reminders of Hedwig were still painful.

'He's invited us to visit him around this weekend,' Harry continued, turning back to Ron and Hermione. 'He says that he's got the whole of Friday afternoon free as well if we have a free period that day.'

'Oh, really?' said Hermione happily, turning around to rummage in her bag. 'Yes, it's a good idea to visit him; we haven't been able to talk with him much after the battle and funerals.'

'Yeah,' murmured Harry. 'I've really missed him.'

'Here, let's see.' Hermione pulled her timetable out of her bag and scanned the columns quickly. 'Hmm ... we've got a fair amount of free periods but,' she frowned slightly, 'it looks like we have to wait till Saturday to visit him; our Friday afternoons is full: double Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

'Oh.' Ron looked disappointed as did Harry. Both of them began to turn back to their breakfasts when Hermione suddenly gasped.

'What?' Harry and Ron asked at the same time. Even Ginny, who had not been paying much attention to the latter part of their conversation, looked up with concern at the bushy-haired girl.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts!' Hermione cried, looking around at the three of them with a look that clearly said that they should know what she meant. When all she got were blank stares in response, she exasperatedly added, 'This is our second day and we don't even know who our new teacher is!'

Harry, Ron and Ginny gaped at her before they all caught on.

'Merlin, you're right!' Ron exclaimed, dropping his spoon.

Harry shook her head slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. 'I can't believe I forgot about that! I got so caught up with the ring and the engagement business that it completely escaped my mind ... but, wait ...' Harry looked up, face twisted into a puzzled frown. 'Why didn't McGonagall inform the students who the new teacher is?'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'You're right, she didn't tell us. I didn't even notice that first night ... and if McGonagall didn't tell us ... does that mean that they haven't found a new Defence teacher yet? But, no, that can't be it,' she answered her own question decisively. 'They wouldn't reopen the school without a Defence teacher, would they?'

'Maybe they did, Mione,' Ginny murmured softly, with a thoughtful look on her face. 'Last night in the common room,' she quickly began to explain upon catching the confused looks aimed at her, 'I overheard some fifth years talking about having had a free Defence period 'cause there was no professor. So that means that a Defence teacher isn't here at Hogwarts.'

'Seriously?' Hermione looked troubled. 'But then ...' she turned to face the High Table where Professor McGonagall was deep in conversation with Professor Sprout, 'why didn't she say anything about that during the Welcome Feast ...?'

No one could think of an answer.

* * *

'Wow,' Ron murmured as they entered the Gryffindor common room after dinner that night. 'It's true then, isn't it? We don't have a Defence teacher this year.'

'Yeah, unbelievable,' agreed Harry.

Hermione just nodded mutely with a distracted look on her face as they made their way to the armchairs by the fire, which were vacant as most of the students were still in the Great Hall.

Their last class of the day had been Defence Against the Dark Arts. All the seventh year Gryffindors had gone to the classroom only to be greeted with a closed door on which a notice hung announcing that their DADA professor was not present yet, and that they could have the period free. The seventh years that had not noticed the absence of their Defence teacher beforehand had been flummoxed, and those that had had looked both curious and worried. Most of them spent the period hanging around one of the school courtyards, discussing and debating on the reasons why Hogwarts had not managed to find a teacher for the position, and why the school had been opened under such circumstances; it had never happened before.

'It can't be anything bad, right?' Harry said, as they sat down beside the fire. 'I mean, there must be a good reason for this; and McGonagall would tell us if it was anything to worry about ... right?'

'Yeah, that makes sense,' Ron nodded, but Hermione shook her head. Harry and Ron both stared at her.

'What'd you mean, Mione?' Harry raised her eyebrows at the bushy-haired girl.

'Well, I was thinking ... what if that's the whole point? What if it is something to worry about, but McGonagall's not telling us because she doesn't want to scare the students or bring attention to the Defence professor's absence?'

A dark scowl crossed Harry's face at that. 'Well, if that's the case, then that's just stupid and unfair. As students, don't we have a right to know about these things? And if it involves us, then all the more reason for them to inform us. _Not wanting to scare us_ is no excuse.'

'Hang on a minute,' Ron interjected, looking a little perturbed by their talk. 'Isn't it possible that they just couldn't find a teacher so soon?'

'It's possible, Ron, but not probable,' Harry answered. 'The war just ended, but there are still some Dark Wizards around that they haven't managed to capture. They wouldn't reopen the school without finding us a proper Defence teacher; not in their right minds, they wouldn't! Besides, if it is true that they just couldn't find one, then why wouldn't McGonagall tell us? There's no reason to avoid the subject.'

'Well, when you put it like that ...'

All three of them stared at each other, as if willing one of them to come up with a reasonable explanation. No one could. With a sigh, Hermione finally turned and reached for her book bag. 'Well whatever is going on, we'll just have to wait for the answers ...' she murmured.

Harry and Ron both caught on to the dismissal of the topic and they both fell silent, though the topic remained at the front of their minds. As Hermione pulled out the Herbology homework that had been assigned to them that day, Harry too eventually reached for her bag and Ron followed suit after a few moments' hesitation. All three of them quietly worked on their school work until Harry glanced up and saw that it was only five minutes to seven thirty. Remembering her appointment in the library, she jumped up with an exclamation of, 'Merlin, I'm going to be late!'

'Where are you going?' Hermione asked, puzzled.

'Library,' Harry answered shortly as she stuffed her books and parchment into her bag. 'I have to meet Blaise Zabini to work on our projects.'

'Damn!' Ron cursed.

'What's with you?' Hermione frowned at the red-head, puzzled.

'I just remembered; Malfoy told me to come to the library tonight, too.'

'When do you have to go?' Harry asked, swinging her bag onto her shoulders.

'Eight o'clock,' Ron grumbled with a frown; then he brightened up and looked at Harry eagerly. 'Can I come with you now? I'll just hang around till Malfoy comes.'

'Sure, sure,' Harry muttered distractedly, already hurrying towards the door.

'Wait,' Hermione said as Ron stood up and reached for his bag, 'why are you going early? You can work on your Herbology essay till eight, can't you?'

'Actually, now that I've remembered that I have to spend the rest of the night in Malfoy's scarily civil presence, I won't be able to concentrate,' Ron groused sarcastically. 'Might as well go to the library and waste my time or try to find some potions books.'

Rolling her eyes and muttering something indistinguishable under her breath, Hermione turned back to her essay and Ron headed towards the door where Harry was waiting impatiently for him.

'Great, researching with Malfoy,' he muttered sarcastically to himself as they left the common room together. 'Whoopee.'

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, a sort of filler chapter that needed to happen. Sorry about the lack of Draco/Harry moments (but I think the next chapter might make up for that - in more ways than one. ::wink::) However, there are some important stuff up there in this chappy - especially for those of you who want some _major _Draco/Harry interaction in the future. ::grin:: Try to spot a little something in Narcissa's letter that might make you very happy. ;D**

**About updating: My AS exams are coming up ... need I say more? ::sigh:: I can only promise faster updates after June; till then, it's gonna be slow - _real_ slow. I can't even guarantee you guys an update before that ... :'(  
**

**Feedback is love!  
**

**UP NEXT: _CHAPTER TEN - Those Annoying Little Accidents_  
**


	10. Those Annoying Little Accidents

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: I'm uploading this because this chapter was practically finished and just needed a few touch ups - and mainly 'cause I just couldn't go MIA for like three months without leaving you guys a little something. XD So, enjoy!**

**PS: I'll reply to your reviews when I have the time, K? :)  
**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER TEN: THOSE ANNOYING LITTLE ACCIDENTS**

Ron's irritable rant about Malfoy and having to waste his entire night in his partner's oh-so-desirable company just to research a stupid potion lasted all the way to the school library. By the time Harry and Ron reached the corridor leading to the place, he had called Malfoy a great number of excessively creative names that ranged from "air-headed, two-faced, good-for-nothing, dumb blond" to "bloody albino ferret-face with a twelve-foot pole stuck up his ugly ass". He had just gotten started on cursing "that slug of a Potions professor" to hell and back when Harry finally turned to him out of exasperation and begged him to shut up.

'Ron, I get it that you're not very, er, _happy_ with having Malfoy for a partner,' she said as patiently as she could – which was not that patient at all – as she opened the library doors and lead the way inside. 'However, you do realise, don't you, that bad-mouthing Malfoy and Slughorn is not going to help? Just – I dunno, deal with it.'

Ron snorted derisively. 'Easy for you to say,' he muttered as he followed Harry who was already looking around for Blaise Zabini. 'You're not the one stuck with ferret-boy. And I _am_ trying to _deal with it_; and it probably would be easier to do, too, if Malfoy acted like the prick he was. How the hell am I supposed to react if the jerk's gonna be all nice and bloody friendly?!' He threw his hands up in frustration. 'I'm still in shock about that!'

The librarian, Madam Pince, looked up from her desk at Ron's loud voice and made an angry, hushing noise at him which he pointedly ignored.

Distracted from her search for Blaise, Harry turned to look at Ron, a look of mild amusement gracing her face. 'So am I, Ron. A civil Draco Malfoy _is_ hard to imagine. But, since you say that he is being, er, rather polite and all, perhaps _you_ should be nice to him, too,' she suggested, raising her eyebrows. 'Maybe then it won't be so bad working with him.'

'I dunno,' he answered with a shrug, heading to one of the nearby tables and throwing his bag down onto the floor by a chair. 'I was actually thinking more along the lines of ignoring him and pretending that he doesn't exist,' he continued as he sat down and leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head.

Harry had to laugh at that; she approached the table and leaned against it leisurely. 'Oh, really? Well, let's see if you can get the project done that way.' She smirked down at him.

'Thanks,' he muttered sarcastically. With a sigh of vexation, he ran his hand through his mop of fiery red hair and grimaced. 'It's just that,' he said with a frown, 'well ... you know, it's Malfoy! And when he's being _nice_ and all, it just – it just gives me this feeling that he's up to something!'

Harry contemplated his words for a moment, weighing the possibilities and probabilities. 'I don't know about that, Ron,' she answered thoughtfully. 'It's not like Malfoy to be civil to any of us Gryffindors, but, when you think about it – he's just avoided prison, his family's finally seen that Voldemort had been insane from the beginning, they've been through a tough media phase; I think that maybe he and his family have really changed sides for good. It doesn't seem all that likely that Malfoy's planning anything bad ... Don't you think that you're just being ...' she hesitated for a second, not wanting to offend her best friend, 'a little paranoid or something?'

He frowned. 'Dunno – maybe ...'

'_There_ you are; you're late.'

Harry straightened up quickly when she saw her partner striding towards her; Ron stiffened.

'Sorry;' Harry apologised, 'lost track of time. But I got here a couple of minutes ago; I didn't see you.'

'It's OK, don't worry about it, Harry,' Blaise said breezily, coming to a stop a few feet away from her. Ron raised his eyebrows in both wonder and mild disbelief when he heard the Slytherin address Harry by her pet name.

Blaise noticed the red-head staring at him. 'Evening, Weasley,' he greeted the Gryffindor politely, smiling slightly as he did so. Ron's eyebrows skyrocketed, but he nodded shortly at him in acknowledgement nevertheless.

'Anyway, I have already found a few helpful books about Verita,' The Slytherin continued in a business-like voice as he turned back to Harry, not sounding the least bit offended by Ron's curtness. 'They have quite a lot of information about the ingredients and procedures. We just need to find some others that could help us with our essays; that would be enough for tonight. What do you think, Harry?' he added, rather courteously.

'Er, sounds good enough for one night, I guess,' Harry answered a little uncertainly; she was taken aback and slightly touched that Blaise was asking for her opinion. Though he had been quite friendly to her during their Potion's lesson, she had had not fully come to terms with the possibility that he really did intend to work with her as a team; but it sure sounded like he meant to.

Blaise shot her one of his lopsided grins. 'Well, shall we, then?' He gestured towards a table across the library where a small pile of books lay on top – obviously the ones he had collected.

Harry nodded and began to follow him, but stopped when she remembered Ron. 'What are you going to do till Malfoy comes?' she asked, turning back to him.

Ron shrugged. 'I plan to catch up on some of that sleep I lost last night, thanks to you.' He looked at Harry pointedly, but there was no real malice in his expression and tone.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes. 'How 'bout you do something useful like finding Verita-related books?'

'Aw, Merlin, no! You're starting to sound like Hermione!' Ron groaned in mock-horror. 'But, honestly, no way! There is no way that I'm gonna hunt for information while Malfoy has it bloody easy! Why should I do all the donkey work?'

Harry snorted and tried to swallow a snicker at his typical response; she could have sworn she heard Blaise chuckle, too, though he was more than twenty feet away from them by then. Grinning at Ron, she waved vaguely at him, before turning to catch up with the Slytherin.

* * *

Draco glanced surreptitiously at the attractive brunette who was loitering around the large bookshelf that was directly behind the table he was sharing with Ron Weasley. He did not know who she was, but that was the least of his concerns; he was more interested in her hand; her left hand, currently out of his line of vision – and which might or might not bear a small, white gold ring, declaring her to be the one...

The girl reached up with both hands to pull a heavy tome off the shelf and Draco's eyes immediately darted to the fingers of her left hand. In the few moments that it took for his eyes to focus on the slim digits, he felt his heart rate begin to increase, driven by adrenaline as nervousness and anticipation took hold of his senses. If it really was this particular girl who had gotten his ring...

It was not her. Draco's hope deflated quicker than a popped balloon when he saw no sign of the Malfoy ring on her fingers. A sigh of frustration escaped his lips; time and time again, his expectations had shot up within these past couple of days whenever his eyes landed on a girl – or rather, on a girl's hand, which was something he had unconsciously begun to do and had not been able to control much.

Draco frowned slightly, eyes still on the brunette's bare hand; by now, he had lost count of how many fingers he had squinted at; and each time that he had failed to find his fiancée, his disappointment had increased more and more. Though it had only been two days since his return to Hogwarts, he was now tentatively – and with mounting worry – beginning to question whether his fiancée really did go to Hogwarts or ... was she here, but did not want anything to do with him ...?

'Are you some sort of closet pervert or something, Malfoy?'

Startled, Draco turned to face Weasley, who was seated across from him and was watching him with a sceptical look on his face, eyebrows raised pointedly. It was the first full sentence the red-head had uttered all night; before that, his side of the conversation as Draco tried to "politely" discuss their project had consisted of short, gruff phrases and a varying series of grunts that had annoyed the Slytherin greatly as he tried to interpret the irritating Troll Talk. On top of that, Weasley had also avoided eye contact with him as much as possible, though Draco had noticed that the Gryffindor had been shooting him suspicious looks whenever he thought the blond was not looking. Compared with all that, that question Ron Weasley had just asked him was relatively human and normal.

Or so he thought until his mind fully computed the meaning of it.

'A what?' Draco snapped, insulted. 'And just what exactly gave you that impression, Weasel – ley?' Damn, who would have thought that it would take so much self-control to keep himself in check and not call the annoying Gryffindor by his well-deserved label of "Weasel"?

The weasel in question snorted, rolling his eyes. 'Oh, I don't know, Malfoy,' he drawled, voice laced with disparagement, 'perhaps the fact that you've been gawking at each and every girl that's passed this table for the past hour and half? What's the matter? Never seen a woman before? Or are you just that desperate to get laid?'

Draco shot him a death-glare at his not-very-subtle insinuation, but the sight of his evil-eye did not phase Weasley in the least; instead of glowering right back, he merely smirked slightly, obviously pleased at having riled up his partner's ire. Draco gritted his teeth; he had always known that there were a lot of reasons as to why he hated the red head so much!

'I – am – not – a – pervert, Weasel!' Draco hissed. Screw self-control.

'The hell you're not, _ferret-face_.'

The blond narrowed his eyes dangerously at the Gryffindor. 'Damn it, Weasley, I wasn't staring at their ...' he had to pause to think of a suitable enough word that would not bring the wrath of the librarian (or screeching girls) were she to overhear him, '... curves, for your information.'

The other teen snorted. 'Of course you weren't staring at their _curves_,' he said sarcastically. 'Where else would you be looking at? Their smooth and shapely arms? Well-proportioned hands? Slender fingers?' With another roll of his eyes, he turned away from the seething Slytherin and picked up his Potions book nonchalantly, pretending not to notice that Draco was currently putting all of his energy into turning him into a puddle of soggy melted flesh with the force of his eyes alone.

'As a matter of fact, Weasley, yes, her fingers were exactly what I was looking at,' snapped Draco, too incensed to think about what he was saying.

'Her fingers, is that right – wait, _what_?' The red head's tone changed from satirical to sudden comprehension at lightening speed. Forgetting his book, he looked back up right at Draco, his eyes widening to mega proportions and his jaw slackened. 'You ... their fingers ... you mean that – that you were searching for Har – er, I mean, your ... er, fiancée?'

Draco managed to stop himself from flinching just in time. Damn it, he should not have spoken before thinking! This was not something that he wanted to discuss with anyone except Blaise, especially with Weasel-Bee of all people! He could just imagine what must be going on in that thick head of his now – that he, Draco Malfoy, was pining for his "one true love" and enduring unbearable heartache for each second that he spent away from his significant other. Involuntarily squaring his shoulders, Draco began to accumulate every caustic insult that he could bring to mind on short notice, all ready to throw them into Weasley's face (physically, if the need arose) when the inevitable taunts started.

To his surprise, they never did.

Ron Weasley continued to ogle at him, his eyes like saucers while the expression on his features – understanding mixed with shock and disbelief – became progressively more prominent. Draco raised an eyebrow, slightly confused and intrigued by this unexpected reaction from his no-longer-an-enemy-but-still-close-enough.

'What's it to you if I am trying to find my fiancée, Weasley?' He asked dryly, folding his arms on the tabletop. 'And what's with that look on your face? If I were you, I would close my mouth right about now; we wouldn't want that dangling slob of saliva to escape your maw and contaminate the table, now, would we?'

Again, to his wonder, Weasley did not respond in the way that he expected him to; instead of counterattacking with a verbal assault or even a physical one, he slowly looked back down at his book, something akin to nervousness clouding his eyes as he mumbled something that sounded like, 'Bloody hell, he's actually _looking_ for her...' Draco began to frown, now truly mystified and irritated by the other's strange behaviour.

'Alright, what's going on, Weasley?' he demanded.

'Nothing,' was the muttered answer.

'The hell it's nothing!' Draco hissed, ire ringing in every syllable as he leaned across the table towards Weasley. 'First of all, you react like _that_ when you realised I was searching for my fiancée, and then you go on mumbling to yourself like you actually _know_ who –!' His rant came to an abrupt halt as the realisation hit him like a harsh slap to the face. He narrowed his eyes at the red-head who was now glaring back at him defiantly. 'What do you know that I don't, Weasley?' he growled softly.

'What makes you think _I_ would know anything about your stupid engagement, eh, Malfoy?' shot back the Gryffindor, but the way his voice caught on the words was not missed by the blond.

'You know something, Weasel; even a retard could figure that!'

'Well, I do know something that every retard knows: that whoever is the unfortunate girl who got your bloody ring would never agree to be the wife of an arrogant git like you!'

With a snarl, Draco stood up, almost knocking over his chair as he did so. He was not as angry at the insult as he was about the red-head's refusal to answer truthfully. Draco had a right to know about his fiancée and it was evident that the other boy knew a lot more than he was letting on, and Merlin help him, Draco would find out exactly what it was!

However, Weasley was not quite as agreeable when Draco made his firm intentions known. 'Yeah, good luck with _that_,' he snorted, as he calmly stood up also and began to pack his bag in an obvious dismissal of their research session.

'So, you are admitting that you _do_ know something?' Draco challenged, grabbing his bag as well.

'Clean out your ears, Malfoy; I never said that.'

The Slytherin glared at his long-time adversary. 'Have it your way, then; but I _will_ find out eventually, Weasley, I swear!'

'Just _aching_ to meet your other half, aren't you, Malfoy?' Weasley retorted in a drawl, but there was a touch of something that sounded like revulsion in his tone.

Draco did not bother to dignify his remark with an answer as he icily walked away to find Blaise.

* * *

Harry covered her mouth to stifle a yawn that was just impossible to hold in. The action caught the attention of Blaise who glanced up from the thick book he had been perusing to look amusedly at her.

'Tired?' he asked, smiling slightly.

'Mm hmm,' Harry nodded, dropping her quill on top of the piece of parchment she had been scribbling in and leaning back in her seat with a weary sigh. She eyed the numerous volumes on potions she had been flipping and skimming through for the past who knew how many hours, and the many pieces of parchment that littered their once neat and organised table. The sight of them and the mere thought of opening another potions tome tonight made her feel sick to her stomach.

Blaise seemed to share this sentiment as well. 'Maybe we should call it a night,' he suggested, snapping close the book in his hand and throwing a mild grimace at the others strewn across their table. 'We've already found out more than enough about the ingredients and we've memorised about a third of the procedures; enough for one night, I think.'

'Damn straight,' Harry muttered, stifling another yawn. The action was cut short when a sudden thought came to her. 'Oh Merlin, no,' she groaned in exasperation.

'What?'

'Our essays,' she scowled. 'We spent so much time researching the practical methods of making the thing that we forgot to find information for our essays!'

'Oh,' Blaise muttered, looking as if he wanted to groan out loud himself. He glanced down at the closed book he was still holding in his hands. 'Maybe,' he began thoughtfully, 'we should check out the books we need for the essays and work on them on our own later. The essay is an individual work after all, and on top of that, we still have a lot more to look up about Verita; if we spend these times in the library working on the essays together, I don't think we'll have enough time to prepare to make the potion.'

'Yeah, great,' Harry muttered, mouth pressed tight together. 'Less free time and more potions work – an _individual_ one at that.'

Blaise raised an eyebrow, lips twitching slightly. 'You sound as enthusiastic about Potions as your friend, Weasley, does.'

She chuckled, warmth filling her drowsy eyes and lighting them up. 'Mm, yeah, Ron's rubbed off on me a bit. Besides, I've never really liked Potions much – it's always been one of my weakest subjects.'

'I figured that,' he answered with mock sarcasm in his voice. 'But if you like, I could help out a bit with your essay if you have any difficulties,' he added with a rather friendly smile.

Harry looked at him and felt a small hard-to-repress grin creep up on her face as well. 'Thanks, Blaise; I appreciate it ... but,' She eyed him with a contemplative expression, 'can I ask you one question?'

'I believe you just did,' the dark-eyed teen chortled, 'but you have my permission to ask one more.' Blaise grinned mischievously at her.

For a moment, she merely stared at him, a hint of surprise clouding her eyes at the familiarity with which he had just teased her. Their obligatory acquaintance had barely just begun, and already Blaise was acting so natural and warm; it was as if he felt completely at ease in her presence. That was not to say that Harry was not fond of his company – she was really beginning to appreciate it, but still – _she_ certainly did not feel as impossibly comfortable and unperturbed around him as _he_ seemed to be around her – a mystery that was tied to the question that was presently nagging at her mind.

'I want to know – why are you being so ... I dunno ... pleasant and friendly to me?'

The bronze-skinned boy looked a little taken aback at her seemingly-strange inquiry. 'Why, are you complaining?' he finally asked wryly, crocking his brow.

'No!' Harry said quickly, fearing that she had offended him. 'It's just that ... well, you know, in sixth year when Slughorn invited us to lunch with him on the train – well, I kind of got the feeling that you didn't really like me.' Actually, she was _goddamn sure _that he had _really_ disliked, maybe even hated, her back then; but Harry doubted that emphasising that point would be wise at the moment. 'But now you're being really civil and all ...'

'_You're_ being pretty civil to a Slytherin yourself, Harry,' he drawled lazily, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, eyeing her cynically.

'On top of all that,' Harry continued, choosing to ignore his comment, 'Ron told me that Malfoy was being rather polite to him during Potions as well, and _that_ is something that is just ...'

'Shocking?' supplied Blaise helpfully.

'Something that violates the laws of nature is more like it,' Harry said bluntly and Blaise laughed softly, tipping his head to one side. 'So ... care to explain what's really going on here?'

Dark, enigmatic eyes watched her meditatively. 'I tell you what,' he said abruptly, leaning forwards, 'let's do this fairly; I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine.'

Harry blinked in surprise; she had not been expecting that. 'Oh, um ... fine,' she answered warily.

He shot her a penetrating look before lowering his eyes to her hands that were resting on the table. 'What are you hiding underneath that glove?'

Harry practically froze in her chair and the visible knuckles on her right hand went white as she clenched her hands into fists. Blaise raised his eyebrows at her reaction.

'What makes you think I'm hiding anything under it?' Her voice was stiff and had a hard edge to it.

The brunet rolled his eyes. 'The fact that it's quite warm within the castle and that you wear a glove only on one hand - which, strangely enough, are fingerless except for those stubs - are enough to suggest that you do not wear it merely for the warmth. So, it's really quite easy to figure out what the purpose of the glove is ... So? What little secret does that thing hide from the world, hmm?'

Harry said nothing and Blaise smirked at her.

'I understand if you'd rather not tell me,' he said lightly, reaching for his bag and beginning to pack away the parchment and quills. 'But that means that I won't be answering your question either. So, when you tell me your secret, I'll answer your question. Deal?'

All she could manage was a wordless shrug as she, too, began to mechanically pack her things. She knew that that "deal" was something that would never ever be acted upon – not while she had a say in it! Blaise Zabini had been hanging around Malfoy twenty-four seven ever since she had first seen them both this year. Not even the threat of excruciating pain and dismemberment would have loosened her tongue to someone who was that close to Malfoy.

Blaise chuckled upon seeing her expressionless visage. 'Wow. That secret must be quite a large one, huh, if one simple inquiry about it can shut you up like that?'

Harry just gave him a mock glare of "drop-it-or-you'll-die" before zipping her bag shut. Thankfully, Blaise obliged without argument this time and began to sort through the numerous volumes on the table, explaining that he wanted to choose some that he could check out of the library before someone else did, so that they could use them again during their next research session. Harry nodded in agreement, eager to push away all the talk about her glove and "secret".

'Fine, you do that. I'm off to see if I can find a few books that can help with that essay.' Harry stood up, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. 'Coming?'

'No; I'll look them up later. For now, I'll just deal with these.'

'Right; well, I'll see you later in class, Blaise.'

'You too, Harry.'

With a smile that was returned, Harry turned and hurried towards the bookshelves on the other side of the library.

* * *

_Daft, dim-witted weasel-bee!_

An angry scowl still marred Draco's face as he walked down an aisle in the Potions section. He tried to focus his mind on the task at hand: find some appropriate textbooks for his Potions homework and for the project (working with the King of Weasel-dom was really not all that helpful) before checking whether Blaise was done for the night or not; but his mind continued to linger on that aggravating possibility that Ronald Weasley of all people just might know something about the identity of his anonymous fiancée.

The angry expression deepened as he stalked onwards, looking at but not seeing the titles of the books as he furiously contemplated the pure injustice of that dumb red-haired Gryffindork knowing more about _his_ fiancée than Draco did himself. _It's just like last time_, he thought furiously. Weasley – it was always Weasley who got it in the end, even when it was he, Draco Malfoy, who got first dibs at something. Always Weasley...

Just like back in first year...

_Not again_, he thought irritably and pushed the sudden, unwelcome memory away. It was something that he had told himself over the years that he would never think about again – and failed at constantly. _It doesn't matter now,_ he told himself firmly, wishing that he could believe it. _Not anymore; I'm engaged to someone else now..._

It probably would have been much easier if only he could convince himself of his own words.

Groaning in frustration, he fought down the urge to drive his fist into a bookshelf on his way past. After all these years, he would think that he would be over _that_ by now, but _those_ thoughts had started plaguing him again! That little conversation with the weasel had now indirectly reminded him of _that_, right when it was most inconvenient because he was bloody _engaged_ now!

Would it never end?!

'_Goddamn_ it!' he growled, not caring if Madam Pince would overhear or not as he glowered at the ground. 'Curse it all to the deepest pit of Hell!' Still swearing, he rounded a corner, giving up on research and deciding that he might as well as go and brood himself to sleep when somewhere above him, a voice suddenly exclaimed, 'Hey, watch it!'

Startled, Draco looked up only to realise two things; that one, he was less than a foot away from a ladder on which a person was already standing, and two, that there was no possible way he could stop from walking right into it.

The next three seconds was a complete haze for him. All Draco could remember afterwards was the sensation of painfully colliding into wood, hearing an exclamation that was both a curse and an expectation of pain, the feel of a slim body crashing right on top of him and then the hard ground underneath.

What he did recall vividly, though, was seeing two, almond-shaped eyes staring right into his own before he was knocked over; that plus the sharp pain that shot through him and refused to fade for a long time.

_Ow_, was the first coherent thought he could produce. Draco lay still for a few moments with his eyes closed, instinctively letting his senses spread out to give himself a mental check up for any injuries. He could feel no broken ribs or bones, though his spine and back hurt like hell as did the back of his head. _Damn, I think I banged it._

It was only after that, though, that his mind registered the body still lying on top of him. The person was not uncomfortably heavy or anything, but Draco realised that he was having a little difficulty breathing in and out ... Wait – was it...? No way! Surely ... _surely_, his brain must be receiving the wrong set of signals; because there was just _no way_ that fate could be so cruel as to press, along with their bodies, their faces together ... their mouths...

His eyes flew open only to see two eyes gaping right back at him barely an inch away; and as blurred as they were from the proximity, he recognised them immediately; there was only one person in all of Hogwarts who Draco knew to have such vibrant, jade-tinted eyes. The sight of them sent a shiver running up his aching spine and a wave of heat washed over his face as he fully registered the sensation of having her lips fused to his.

She was the first to react. With unwittingly tantalising slowness, she pushed herself up on her elbows, pulling her mouth away from his. The awkwardness of the situation was not helped in the least when their lips made a soft, smacking sound as they parted.

Draco stared up at her reddening face dazedly, still trying to grasp what had just happened when a sudden feeling came over him. It was like a physical sensation that began at his lips and spread out through his body like a raging forest fire, filling him with strange, prickling warmth, but at the same time, raised goosebumps on his arms. The sensation disappeared as fast as it had come, leaving nothing behind but a pounding heart and a pair of tingling lips. He blinked, feeling breathless and very confused. _What - what was that?_

'I ...'

His eyes focussed on the girl who was still on top of him. Potter's face, still so close to his own that he could feel her breath fanning over his face, was now a previously unknown shade of magenta and her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to overcome her speechlessness. The comical sight finally knocked some sense back into him.

'You have got to stop with these little falling-on-top-of-me accidents, Potter,' Draco drawled dryly, 'before you go and crush me to death – or perhaps that was your intention all along?'

He chose to disregard the fact that his eyes involuntarily concentrated on her pink lips – _her soft, very-pleasant-to-kiss lips_, noted a voice in the back of his mind, bringing a flush to his face – and the soft shiver that coursed through him when her mouth brushed enticingly against his own as he spoke. A sudden urge to lean up and capture her lips in another kiss came over him and he had to make a conscious effort to resist it. _What the hell?! Why am I - ?_

Meanwhile, his dry sarcasm had managed to break the ice and her fiery nature ignited.

'Oh, I'm so sorry,' she hissed, her eyes flashing as she glowered down at him. Their lips brushed again and Draco could almost feel his skin burn at the soft contact; his breath came out in a shaky hiss and he almost protested when she quickly pulled her face further away from his. Another soft blush had spread across her countenance, but the ire in her eyes did not fade. 'Maybe I wouldn't have fallen on top of you _again_ if Your Highness had bothered to watch where you were going!'

'Yeah, well ...' Fighting against the fog that was clouding his mind, Draco tried to come up with a smart-ass reply, 'what the hell were you doing on top of a ladder, anyway?!'

'Oh, I don't know;' she said sarcastically, sounding extremely like a certain, auburn-haired sidekick of hers despite the fact that the redness in her cheeks had not completely receded yet, 'maybe I was trying to get a book that I wouldn't have been able to reach otherwise?'

Right; of course. He scowled up at her, fighting the flush that unfolded on his face when he realised the stupidity of his argument. Still, not being one to surrender easily, he opened his mouth to make another scathing (and probably idiotic) retort when an all-too-familiar voice drawled amusedly, 'I'm not _interrupting_ something, am I?'

The two teens on the ground looked up to see an amused Blaise standing over them, a suggestive leer on his face. Draco did go fully red this time when he remembered that the girl was still lying on him in quite a suggestive manner. As for Potter, she snatched herself away from him so fast that he did not even notice the action until he realised three seconds later that her weight was no longer resting on top of him. Still red in the face, Draco slowly rose to his feet, wincing as more pain shot through his back as he straightened.

Meanwhile, the raven-haired girl was smoothing down her robes as she coolly said to the other Slytherin, 'It was just an accident, Blaise.' The high colour in her cheeks contrasted with her aloof tone.

'Of course it was,' Blaise answered airily, though his dark eyes were still dancing with laughter as he watched her bend down to pick up the library book she had dropped during the little "accident".

'Why are you here, Blaise?' Draco cut into their talk, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at his friend.

The half-Italian shrugged innocently at him. 'Just came to find Harry because she left her Potions book behind.' He rather overstressed his answer by dangling the aforementioned book under Draco's nose for a full ten seconds much to the blond's annoyance, before throwing it lightly at the girl.

'Thanks, Blaise.' She caught the book deftly with one hand and quickly stuffed it in her bag. 'See you,' she added, beginning to walk away.

Draco did not miss the self-conscious look she gave him before she disappeared from view round the corner of the aisle. He watched her go, his mind blank and buzzing, and only turned away when the sound of Blaise chuckling softly reached his ears.

'How long were you standing there _before_ you _interrupted_?' he asked pointedly, voice low and level.

Blaise smiled slightly. 'Long enough,' was his simple reply.

Draco averted his eyes and pretended that he could not still feel the touch of Potter's lips on his own.

* * *

'Are you serious?!'

'_Yes_, Ron,' Harry groaned exasperatedly, sinking into the armchair beside Hermione. 'How many times do I have to say it?'

'But – but, that's just – you and Malfoy ...' Words failed her friend as he paced back and forth in front of her before throwing himself onto the sofa opposite her, with a jumbled expression on his face.

'I already told you that it wasn't deliberate!' Harry pointed out, wondering what it was with men and their incapability to understand such simple concepts. First Blaise, now Ron... 'Do you honestly think I would throw myself on top of Malfoy on purpose? If he had only been watching where he was going –!'

'Yeah, yeah, I get it, Harry,' Ron interrupted. 'But, still ...'

Harry grimaced slightly; she could understand his disgust all too well. Without thinking, she slowly licked her lips and almost went red when she realised - or maybe imagined - that she could almost taste him still. _Note to self: brush teeth thrice and gurgle with mouthwash before going to bed, _she thought, fighting hard to overcome the blush._  
_

'Harry ...' Hermione murmured pensively; it was the first word she had spoken ever since Harry had come back to the nearly empty common room and dazedly recounted what had happened in the library. 'If you really did kiss ...'

'Hermione!' _Not you, too!_ 'It wasn't like that –!'

'No, of course not, Harry, that's not what I meant; but if it involved skin contact ...'

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. 'Honestly, Hermione, if two people have ever managed to kiss without involving skin contact before – well, then that's a first for me.'

Mentally agreeing with Ron, Harry gazed at Hermione, wondering what she was trying to get at. The bushy-haired girl had _that look_ on her face, the one she always got right before solving a big mystery ... and what usually followed right afterwards was an outburst that was the English equivalent of "Eureka!"

As if on cue –

'Oh, Merlin!' Hermione shot to her feet, a shocked look on her face. With a sigh, Harry slumped in her armchair; damn, her guess had been right – and apparently the "solved mystery" thing was not good news...

'Oh, no, can it be...?' Within five seconds, Hermione had disappeared up the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory.

Ron watched her go with raised eyebrows. 'Don't you just _love_ it when she acts like that?' he muttered.

Harry said nothing, waiting for Hermione's return with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Whatever was coming, it was not good; she just knew it.

Her apprehension was short-lived. A few minutes later, Hermione came running down the stairs with a large tome tucked under her arm. Harry looked at it quizzically as Hermione dropped it onto the table in front of them with a _bang!_ Her expression turned to one of comprehension and surprise when she recognised what book it was.

'You borrowed it from the library?' Harry looked up questioningly at Hermione as her friend hurriedly flipped through the yellowed pages of _Old Enchantments and Charms: A Comprehensive Collection of Forgotten Enchantments Cast in the Past._

'Yes,' Hermione answered distractedly, still searching through the heavy volume with a careless zeal she barely ever did express when dealing with her beloved books. 'Since it's the only one we were able to find so far that mentioned engagement rings, I thought it would be better to do it.'

'But what's the point of borrowing it? There's nothing in there on how to remove the ring,' reminded Ron as he sat up and leaned forwards to peer over the tabletop. 'We looked through it for hours that night!'

'Mm hmm, but I decided to borrow it and read it cover to cover, just in case we missed anything.'

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. 'Only you, Mione,' murmured Ron, shaking his head slightly and Harry nodded her agreement.

'Here it is!' Hermione smoothed out a page and began to scan it with her eyes; she finally found the paragraph she was searching for and began to read aloud,

'_A complete record of all the magic cast on Wizarding engagement rings has never been made, and though most of the enchantments have been deciphered by modern magic researchers, some of the most crucial charms cast on them still remain as mysteries to date. For example, researchers are still unable to decode the forgotten enchantment that gives such rings the ability to "inform" the ring-owner that he or she has found their fiancé(e) when physical contact, be it accidental or intentional, has been made between both of them for the first time after the owner has donned the ring. The method of "informing" slightly varies with different engagement rings, but most ring-owners have reported feeling "strange, prickling warmth" spreading throughout their bodies a few seconds after having touched their fiancé(e)s.'_

It took several seconds for the gist of what Hermione had just read aloud to dawn on Harry, but a persistent buzzing had filled her ears and her mind went blank, because her brain just point-black refused to accept what she had heard. That just could not be happening! Surely life could not be so callous...

'Bloody hell,' breathed Ron, his eyes impossibly wide; he, too, had obviously understood the situation, but unlike Harry, his mind had evidently grasped what hers had rejected. 'You mean that – because they kissed...'

Harry still had enough active brain cells in order to mumble, 'T'wasn't a kiss.'

Ron ignored the interruption and continued, '– the stupid ring has _informed_ Malfoy that Harry is his fiancée?'

''M not his fiancée.'

'So, Malfoy _knows_ about Harry now??'

'I don't know, Ron,' Hermione answered quietly, her eyes still locked on the little passage that had as good as spelled "doom" for one Harry Potter. 'It all depends on whether Malfoy knows about this magic of the rings. It's possible that his parents have already told him, but then again, they might have overlooked it; after all, Malfoy can't walk around touching every girl he sees to know if she's his fiancée or not – so, it's likely that his parents haven't told him about this little detail.'

'Right ... but, now that he has _touched_ Harry, could he have felt that – what was it? – _burning hotness_ in his body...? No, wait ... that last part came out wrong...'

'Actually, yes, I daresay he must have felt it by now,' Hermione answered matter-of-factly, opting to disregard Ron's choice of words. 'Let's just hope that he doesn't know what that means, though; that will give us more time to remove the ring.'

'I guess,' Ron muttered dubiously. He looked around at Harry and concern filled his blue eyes immediately. 'Hey, you alright, Harry?'

Dull, green eyes gazed expressionlessly at the fire for a few seconds before rising to meet those of her friends'. 'I just heard that Draco Malfoy might or might not know by now that his damn ring came to me which would lead to the most uncomfortable and embarrassing situation I'd ever have to face – of course, I'm bloody alright.' Her derision was not missed.

'Oh, don't worry, Harry,' Hermione said quickly in a soothing tone, 'it'll be fine! In fact, I think it's quite likely that he doesn't know about this. Remember that first night back when you fell off the train on top of him?'

_Thanks for the déjà vu reminder_.

'It's possible that, when you fell on him, he felt this "warmth" that night, too, but Malfoy hasn't been acting odd around you or seemed to realise that you're his fiancée –'

'No,' Harry interrupted brusquely, 'there was no skin contact that night; I'm positive that I didn't touch him. If he _did_ feel anything, it must have been only tonight, because,' she raised her voice upon seeing that Hermione was on the verge of interjecting, 'I saw an odd look on his face right after I ... you know ... fell off the ladder on top of him ...'

'Oh ... but still Harry, even if Malfoy did feel anything tonight, he might not know what it means, so it's really not a very big deal!' Hermione gave her a bright, encouraging smile. 'There are still a lot of books in the library we haven't checked and till we find how to take off the ring, Malfoy might never find out about you.'

'Yeah,' Ron agreed heartily though the apparent doubt in his eyes told Harry that he was only doing so for her sake.

'Well, I hope so,' Harry answered wearily as she stood up and picked up her book-bag. She glanced down at the black glove that hid the white gold ring from view and grimaced. 'Ugh, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? I have just got to find a way to remove this!'

'We're with you, Harry; we'll find a way and everything will be alright,' Ron said reassuringly, slinging an arm around her shoulders as all three of them headed towards the staircase leading to the dormitories.

'Isn't that last part supposed to be my line?' Hermione asked amusedly.

'Yeah, you're right,' Ron chuckled. 'But I've known you for seven years, Mione. You're rubbing off on me.'

'Oh, the horror of having two Hermione Grangers in this world,' Harry snorted, lips twitching. She quickly ducked when Hermione pretended to aim a slap at her head.

Laughing, the trio headed up the stairs, calling out their good nights as they parted ways to go to their separate dormitories. None of them noticed the pair of curious eyes that watched them intently from the shadows.

* * *

**A/N: If you're happy about a _certain little something_ that happened in this chappy, then don't thank me; thank my evil little devil-minions who're assisting me with world annihilation - er, I mean, ahem, my cousin Euko-chan and my friend Mihoo, who put so much pressure on me that I finally gave in and delivered what they wanted ... which is also what you guys probably wanted. :D And it also did help with the progress of the storyline, so who am I to complain? ... lol. Let me know what you thought of that, hm? ^v^**

**So, I'll see you guys with an update after June, yeah - because I seriously _cannot_ upload another chapter till then. :( I hope this one satisfied your cravings for some Draco/Harry interaction somewhat.**

**By the way, the voting poll is still up on my profile, so please drop in a vote if you haven't already. XD  
**

**COMING NOT SO SOON: _CHAPTER ELEVEN: Bugging the Dragon_**


	11. Bugging the Dragon

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: HEY GUYS!! XD Missed me? ::ducks away from onslaught of rotten tomatoes::  
**

**Haha, sorry for the long wait, lovelies. :) My exams are over, but red-hot-iron-fever, blocked noses, soar throats - my life is a mess at the moment. ::snort::**

**By the way, I got some very _interesting_ threats of what catastrophes would befall me if I didn't update this fic soon. A certain someone even threatened, and I quote, "_If you don't update your story, I'm gonna RAPE you - seriously._" 0.o You guys have got quite the imagination, I'll give you that much. XD  
**

**Anyway, enough chit-chat. Here it is: the longest chapter I've written so far! Me likey, you likey too, yesh? I certainly hope so! :D  
**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: BUGGING THE DRAGON**

'I'm so glad it's the weekend,' Ron said with a grin at Harry as the two of them stood leaning against the wall of the Entrance Hall after breakfast, waiting for Hermione. They had been on their way to meet Hagrid when their friend had gotten sidetracked and was currently conversing with her Potions' partner in the Great Hall. 'We'll be free of teachers for a few hours at least,' he continued happily. 'Honestly, can you believe how much work they've given us? And it's only the first week back!'

'Hmm, yeah,' Harry answered with a yawn, rubbing the back of her hand over her eyes tiredly. She was so exhausted that she had barely heard what Ron had just said, something which her friend did not seem to realise as he chattered on.

'... and no more constant lectures about revising, too! And on top of that, no stupid potion researching for two whole days. I seriously need a break before I have to waste my time in the company of Hogwarts' resident aristoprick again!'

The mention of the Slytherin's name caught Harry's attention like nothing else her friend had said up until that point. She looked round at him with tired, yet guarded eyes.

'You're complaining about Malfoy _again_?' she asked, looking at him questioningly. 'Alright, Ron, what's going on? At first you said that he was being civil to you, but after that first night working in the library, you've been complaining about him more and more for the past few days. Did Malfoy say anything that made you angry or something? Ron?' she added a little more concernedly when Ron did not answer. His eyes were locked on a point somewhere above her shoulder.

'Speak of the devil,' he muttered under his breath, blue eyes narrowing.

Blinking in confusion, Harry turned to look over her shoulder as well. Her eyes widened when she saw what – or who – it was that had caught Ron's attention: Draco Malfoy was exiting the Great Hall, deep in conversation with Blaise Zabini who was, as usual, right by his side.

Harry felt a light blush creep up her face as she watched the two of them walk down the Hall towards the open doors that lead outside. Every time her eyes had fallen on Malfoy after their little "accident" in the library four days ago, a feeling of self-consciousness had always taken hold of her, bringing colour to her cheeks – though why her body was reacting in such a ridiculous manner, she could not explain for the life of her. After all, the little mishap in the library had been a mere accident, something that she could easily brush off as an incident that had never taken place.

Or, at least, that was what she kept telling herself, but the self-reassurances did little to prevent the rush of blood to her face _every single time_ she saw Malfoy. There was also the fact that, on top of everything, her mind had taken on an annoying tendency to constantly dwell on the memory of what it felt like to have his mouth smashed up against her own – which, to be completely honest, had not really been as disgusting as she had made it out to be in front of Ron and Hermione. In fact, if it had not been _him _on top of whom she had been sprawled, she might have even found the experience rather pleasant...

_Wait ... did I just ... ugh, what am I thinking?!_

To both her relief and chagrin, she was abruptly snapped out of her rather perturbing thoughts for Malfoy looked up at her at that moment, almost as if he had sensed her eyes on him. Harry could literally feel the flush on her face deepening as their gazes locked, but she defiantly gazed back at him with her head held high.

Quite automatically, she found herself searching his face and eyes for any sign, even an infinitesimal hint, that he might possibly _know_. It was an inspection she carried out almost every time they saw each other, ever since last Monday night when Harry had been faced with the frightening possibility that her secret about the ring was now exposed to her rival.

_Oh, thank Merlin, he hasn't realised – yet_, Harry thought with relief when she discovered no tell-tale signs in his eyes that he knew about her being his "fiancée". She pointedly ignored how her heart began to beat just a tad faster and the tingling sensation that began in her lips as Malfoy returned her stare intensely. His eyes lingered on her for a few more seconds before his attention slid over to Ron.

The deadpan expression vanished almost at once and was replaced by a look Harry recognised all too well. It was the one he used to wear during their younger years whenever they faced each other: a cold, challenging glare.

The temperature in the Entrance Hall went down a few degrees.

Thoroughly surprised that Malfoy was aiming such a look at Ron, Harry turned to her best friend only to see him glowering right back at the blond with great defiance. His eyes were almost slits by then and his mouth was set in such a tight line that it gave Harry the impression that Ron was forcing himself not to bare his teeth.

Well, it would seem that there truly was a reason as to why Ron had taken to cursing Malfoy's mere existence so much over the past couple of days – only, what that reason was, Harry had absolutely no idea.

_OK, this is a little strange – even for them_, Harry thought uncertainly, eyes going back and forth between the two scowling men. She was not the only one to have noticed the unnaturally high animosity between them, either. Blaise, too, was watching the scene curiously with a raised eyebrow from where he was standing a little behind his friend. Their eyes met and Harry shot him a questioning look to which Blaise responded with a half-hearted shrug.

With a last contemptuous glare at the red-head, Malfoy stalked out of the Hall with a bemused Blaise following him. Harry watched them disappear out of the doors before turning to Ron who was now pointedly glaring at the floor. She raised her eyebrows wryly.

'Right, what was that all about?'

A grimace covered his face as Ron looked up at her, his eyes hard and serious. 'Harry, stay away from him.'

'Eh?' That was not what she had expected to hear. 'What are you talking about?'

'You don't want him to know about the ring, right? Then stay away from Malfoy.'

She stared at him. 'Ron ... I have no idea why you're saying that. It's not like I've been seeking him out or anything –'

'Yeah, I know that, Harry,' he interrupted, looking a little frustrated. 'But it's just that ...' Ron ran a hand through his hair, evidently trying to find words to explain himself. After a few moments, when no words seemed to appear in his mind, he turned to her with a sigh and stated bluntly, 'He's looking for you, Harry.'

'Er, what ...?' Her mental exhaustion, which had kicked in again as soon as Malfoy was out of sight (why was that, though?), was apparently making her brain work backwards.

'Harry!' Ron glared at her in exasperation. 'He's looking for you! OK, he's actually searching for his fiancée! All this time, we figured that he was being a good little boy and was just waiting for the girl – meaning _you_ – to show up in front of him, and we thought that that would give us more time to find a way to get the stupid ring off. But that's not it, Harry! He's not only _waiting_ anymore, _he's trying to find you_.'

'... Oh.' Talk about intelligent replies.

He stared at her in mild surprise before a sardonic look crossed his features. 'Well, since you don't seem to think too much of it, maybe I shouldn't bother, either.'

Harry blinked, still unable to understand what he was trying to get at. She was beginning to regret the fact that she had gotten only a couple of hours of sleep last night. 'Umm ... yeah, Ron ... er, what exactly is the big deal about it?'

'Hmm, let's think;' he began rather sarcastically, 'last Monday night, I found out that Malfoy walks around the castle looking at the hands of each and every girl that comes his way to see if she has his bloody ring or not. Then there's the fact that he now suspects _me_ of knowing who his fiancée is – which sadly is true – and has begun to badger me about it, and even tried to blackmail me during one of our so-called research sessions – which are the reasons why I've been pissed off at him these past few days, for your information – to make me tell him about you. Now, put all that together and what do you get?' He looked pointedly at her.

His run-on sentences were not helping in the least to stop her brain from turning into mush. 'Er ... I'm not really getting anything, Ron...'

Ron looked seriously ticked off now. 'Well, Harry,' he forced through clenched teeth in a deceptively calm tone, 'there's more than a slim chance that, eventually, there will come a day when he will look at _your_ hand and, instead of seeing your ring finger, he'll see a great, big, black glove. And since he's already suspicious of _my_ knowing something about his fiancée now, he might have enough brain cells – impossible as it seems – to realise that _my_ best friend, Hariah Potter, is the one who got the ring and that you're hiding his token of love behind that glove. There's also the part where he really might have _felt_ that weird _warmth_ that night when you kissed him, so that'll increase the chances of him realising that his fiancée is you. And since he's come out of his scary dragon's lair and is actually taking the trouble of _searching_ for his one true love, the day when he sees your hand and puts two and two together might come sooner than you think, meaning that it's better for you to stay as far away from him as possible. Und-er-stood?'

'... You know, Ron, it's incredible how much you sound like Hermione when you're trying to be smart.'

A dangerous vein, much like the ones that were the trademark of one Vernon Dursley, began to throb on Ron's temple. 'Harry ...'

'Seriously, been hanging around her too much? 'Cause I could've sworn that that wasn't you talking –' Her words and thoughts came to a sudden standstill when her subconscious finally managed to digest Ron's words like her exhausted conscious mind had been unable to. The meaning and significance of what he was implying finally dawned on her and she felt her knees grow weak as her imagination fed her a vivid vision of Ron's words about Malfoy coming true.

If Malfoy ever did guess that it was her...

'Oh _shit_!'

'About time you got it,' Ron scoffed. 'And my brothers call _me_ the dumb one.'

* * *

'Don't tell me that you have started up the enmity between you and Weasley again, Draco,' Blaise muttered as he followed his friend out into the September sun.

'What?' Draco glanced at him over his shoulder. His eyes were still hard and steely.

'You heard me,' Blaise returned coolly. 'What's up with you two now? I thought you said that you'd managed to get along with him during our first Potions class. However, you've been getting moodier by the day and just now you were glaring at him as if you were about to tear his throat open, which hardly seems like a courteous gesture to me.'

'I _was_ being civil to him, Blaise,' Draco snapped, abruptly turning around to face the other Slytherin. 'And though I hate it, I would still make an attempt to be so only if that weasel hasn't been trying to hide my fiancée's identity from me!

A shocked look passed across the brunet's face. 'He – what?'

With his face still twisted in anger, Draco briefly recounted the conversation he had had with his Potions' partner that Monday night. 'I'm sure of it, Blaise. I'd bet my entire inheritance that he knows who my fiancée is and that he's purposely keeping it from me! Isn't that reason enough for me to be _uncivil_? As the owner of the Malfoy rings and as her betrothed, I have a _right_ to know who she is –!'

'Alright, alright, calm down,' Blaise cut across him quickly when Draco's voice took on a disturbingly high-pitched tone. _No need to scream so hysterically like a PMSing girl_, he added in his mind, but had enough sense not to say it out loud. 'Now, tell me, how can you know for sure that Weasley knows the girl's identity?'

'Blaise, you should have seen his reaction when I admitted that I was trying to find her,' Draco said with a frown. 'It still doesn't make any sense to me why he got so horrified and overreacted, but honestly – the look on his face! From the way he acted, you'd think it would be the end of the world if I found the girl! It seemed as if ... he knows who she is, but he's keeping her from me almost like he is ...' Draco sought for words, '... like he's _protecting_ her from me or something! Why else would he panic over something so small?'

Blaise stared at him, still struggling to make head or tail of his words. 'Protecting her ...?'

'Weasley was acting like an overprotective mother-hen who just found out that his underage daughter's pedophile, psychotic ex-lover was back in town and ready to claim her, so yes, I concluded that he's trying to protect her from me, though why the hell that is, I have absolutely no clue!'

'Right,' muttered Blaise, nonplussed. An inner part of his brain noted that Malfoys apparently did have a creative side to them when it came to descriptions and comparisons.

'And,' Draco continued, his tone taking a sudden thoughtful turn, 'I only realised this recently: while Weasley was denying that he knew anything about my engagement in the library, he almost let something slip. I think it was a name. He was saying something like, 'You're searching for –' and at that moment, he almost began to say what I think was someone's name before he stopped and said "your fiancé" instead.'

'Right,' Blaise said again, now trying to regain his composure as he finally managed to grasp the gist of what Draco was ranting about. 'So, why didn't you confront him about that right then?'

'I was too distracted,' Draco admitted, averting his eyes, 'I only realised it much later while I was thinking about what Weasley had said.'

'I see ... so that's why you seem so sure that he knows?'

'Yes, Blaise, I'm damn sure of it! But the weasel won't 'fess up,' he added irritably, beginning to walk again, this time heading towards the lake. Silently, Blaise fell into step with him. 'I've tried so hard to get an answer out of him these past few days, but the ass is so goddamn pigheaded!'

'That explains the animosity,' drawled the half-Italian as he lazily sat down on a boulder near the lakeshore.

'Wouldn't you be pissed off as well if someone hid something from you – something that you have a right to know?' Draco shot at him, folding his arms.

'Perhaps, but since I haven't been in such a situation yet –' Blaise suddenly stopped and a curious frown crossed his face.

'What?'

The frown on his face deepened as he quietly remarked, 'Well, well, look who dropped by for a visit today.'

Blinking in confusion, Draco turned around. He stiffened when he saw who it was that was coming up behind him.

'What the hell is _she_ doing here ...?'

* * *

'Alright, Harry, what have you been up to?'

Harry looked around at Hermione in bewilderment, blinking tiredly as the three of them hurried towards Hagrid's little hut in front of the Forbidden Forest. 'What are you talking about?'

'Just look at you, Harry,' Hermione exclaimed, looking disapprovingly at the other girl's face. 'You've got dark circles under your eyes, you look utterly exhausted and you've barely been listening to a word I just said!' The bushy-haired girl looked shrewdly at her friend. 'You didn't sleep at all last night, did you, Harry?'

'Of course I did!' Harry said defensively, simultaneously trying to force her face to look wide awake and failing pathetically.

'Oh, really?' Hermione raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. 'And just how many hours of sleep did you get?'

'Um ...' Harry smiled nervously as Hermione turned the full force of her astute eyes on her. 'I think ... maybe three hours ... give or take around fifteen minutes?'

'Bloody hell, mate, what were you doing?' Ron exclaimed, turning around to look at Harry over his shoulder.

She chuckled a little embarrassedly. 'Well, I was ... you know ... library ...'

Silence reigned over them for a full three seconds before Ron turned away, snorting in amusement while Hermione shook her head.

'Harry, you're getting rather obsessed with this, don't you think?' muttered the brown-eyed girl as they neared Hagrid's hut.

'Obsessed?' Harry repeated disbelievingly. 'Hermione, I don't think you fully understand the situation here! What with that little thing that happened in the library on Monday night and Malfoy's ring _enlightening_ him about who his bloody fiancée is, the chances of him realising that I got the ring has risen, so I really can't afford to waste time if I want to remove this thing before that happens.'

'We don't know if Malfoy has guessed the truth or not, Harry,' Hermione pointed out, sounding slightly exasperated. 'It's been a few days, but he hasn't approached you or anything, has he? So, it's most likely that he still hasn't managed to put it all together. Besides,' Hermione added under her breath though Harry still heard every word, '_not wasting time_ doesn't mean turning yourself into a zombie via lack of food and sleep deprivation.'

Harry scowled and chose to ignore the sound of Ron, who had obviously overheard Hermione's little comment as well, chortling to himself.

They finally reached their destination. A large smile spread across Harry's face as they stopped outside the small, one-room house that belonged to their half-giant friend. It looked homely and welcoming with no aura of dark memories tainting it. The smile grew wider as the anticipation of finally meeting and talking to her long-time friend built up inside her. She really had missed him these past few months though they had kept in touch through letters.

'Hagrid?' Ron called as he knocked on the door. 'It's us.' He stepped back and all three of them looked up expectantly at the door. No body answered.

'Hagrid?' Harry knocked on the wooden door as well. Her smile faded when, yet again, no answering call sounded from within the hut. The three teens exchanged worried glances.

'Hey, are you home?' Harry knocked harder. 'It's us. We –'

'Do you hear that?' Hermione interrupted, holding up a hand.

Harry paused as well and looked around, listening hard. At first, she could hear nothing but the sound of wind passing through the trees of the Forbidden Forest, but then, another noise reached her ears; something that sounded like –

'Is that Fang barking?' Ron asked curiously. As if on cue, a black boarhound came bounding around the side of the hut and practically bowled over the red-head in his enthusiasm.

'_Ow_!' Ron groaned as he landed on the ground with the enormous dog still on top of him as he barked happily.

'Hey, Fang,' Harry snorted with laughter as she watched the spectacle her friend made as he fruitlessly tried to save his face from the onslaught of spittle, but to no avail. Fang continued to treat him to a proper doggy greeting as he licked Ron all over his face.

'Tha' yeh three?' a booming voice called at that moment.

'Hagrid!' Hermione exclaimed happily, beginning to run around the hut towards the large pumpkin patch that lay at the back. Harry followed with a grin, pausing only to haul a spluttering Ron to his feet.

'Ugh, gross,' he muttered, wiping his face on his jacket as he jogged after the two girls and the dog that was still barking at the top of his voice.

Their old friend was standing in the middle of his pumpkin patch, squirting a yellowish liquid onto his precious pumpkins with a large, spray bottle. He straightened up to his full height when the three Gryffindors came into view and shot them a warm smile that was barely visible through the tangles of his long, bushy beard.

'We thought you weren't home,' Harry panted as they came to a halt beside him.

'Ah, I was jus' gettin' started on my pumpkins,' Hagrid chuckled. He took a moment to give them a once-over, his beetle-black eyes twinkling cheerfully, before literally scooping all three of them into his enormous arms in a rib-breaking hug. 'Heh, I've missed yeh three. Good ter see yeh back again in one piece!'

'Yeah, ow,' Harry gasped, somehow managing to squeeze out a laugh through her crushed lungs. 'But we might ... not ... remain whole if ... you don't ... put us ... down ...'

'Oh, s'rry.' He lowered them to their feet again and ran a sheepish hand through his thick, knotted hair, nearly getting his fingers tangled in them in the process.

Hermione chuckled, panting slightly. 'Yes, it's nice to see you again, Hagrid.' She glanced around and remarked, 'Is it me or are your pumpkins bigger than ever?'

'Yeah, look at that one!' Ron exclaimed, pointing at a particularly large pumpkin that fairly resembled a boulder. 'Wow, Hagrid, how'd you do that?'

'Heh, t'was Professor McGonagall;' Hagrid answered, bending down to examine one of the overgrown fruits, 'she came 'round a couple days ago, sayin' that she wanted some spectacular pumpkins fer Halloween.'

'Huh? But it's only the first week of September,' pointed out Harry, who had not missed the fact that Hagrid had deliberately side-stepped Ron's actual question – though she was pretty sure that they all knew how Hagrid had "done" it; she could see his pink umbrella leaning innocently against the wall of his hut.

'Yeh, I know, bu' see, them teachers have bin plannin' some events fer this year, an' I s'pose that Professor McGonagall wanted the pumpkins ter be extraordinary fer Halloween, so she came ter gimme a decen' head's up.'

'What events –?' Hermione started to ask, but Ron cut across her with an appalled look on his face as if his worst nightmare had just come true, '_Events_? Hagrid, by events you don't mean something like – like ... a _Halloween Dance_ or something, do you?!'

Hagrid looked up at him amusedly. 'No, Ron, I think that the Headmistress jus' wants a really nice Halloween feast fer all of yeh.'

Ron heaved a sigh of relief. 'Oh, thank Merlin –!'

'But I think that they did say summat abou' holdin' a Ball aroun' Christmas ...'

'_WHAT_?!'

* * *

'_There_ you are, Draco! We've been wondering where you'd got to!'

Draco narrowed his eyes at the woman who was approaching them. 'What do you want, Skeeter?' he growled.

The leer on the features of Rita Skeeter widened and she let out a merry laugh as she flipped her blonde hair, which was curled to perfection, over her slim shoulders. Trotting behind her came her faithful photographer, who had his large camera held at the ready and a devoted smile to match.

'Now, now, Draco,' the reporter chided as she came to a stop in front of him, with that accursed grin still etched onto her face, 'is that any way to greet an old friend?'

Before Draco could reply, another voice cut in, 'An old friend?'

Draco, Rita and the other wizard all turned to look at Blaise who was now sitting upright on the boulder. 'You never told me that you knew her personally, Draco,' he said confusedly.

'And who would you be?' Rita asked in a sickly-sweet voice, sizing up the Slytherin she had just noticed with shrewish eyes.

'He's my friend,' Draco answered for Blaise, frowning down at the blonde witch, 'something that you are _not_, Skeeter. I'll explain later,' he added over his shoulder to Blaise in a whisper. The brunet looked up at him for a second before nodding silently.

'Oh, you wound me, Draco –'

'Why are you here?' Draco interrupted Rita sharply. Inwardly, he feared that he knew the reason, but Merlin, please, don't let it be so...

'Alright, let's just get right to the point, shall we?' Rita simpered, not the least bit affected by the Slytherin's unwelcoming attitude. 'You see, Draco, I, unlike other reporters, do not like getting my information second-hand nor do I fabricate my own views and theories in the _Prophet_ –'

He did not even bother to fight down the derisive snort that escaped him at that. Why, if that was not the biggest, fattest, most elephantine lie he had ever heard in his life...

'– no, I like getting information straight from the sources,' Rita went on carelessly, ignoring his outward show of sarcasm. 'You might have noticed that I refrained from publicizing any of my own articles concerning your engagement in the _Prophet_?'

A part of Draco's mind was sulking about how his guess as to why Rita had come to Hogwarts had been correct, while the other half pondered on her last words. He blinked, realising that she was right. Though he had not fully registered the fact until now, there really had not been any articles by Rita Skeeter over the past three months about his current situation. Draco looked down at the woman warily. _What is she up to?_

'Why are you here?' He repeated for lack of anything better to say.

Rita smiled sweetly at him. 'For an interview, Draco,' she purred. 'Since your mother had strictly banned any reporters from arriving at your manor over the summer to interview you, it resulted in many of them making up there own views of your state of affairs. However,' she tipped her head to one side, 'you're not safe at home now, are you? You're here at Hogwarts and I, of course, am not going to let the opportunity of being the first reporter to personally question you about your engagement go by.

'And yes, before you ask, I'm perfectly authorised to be here as the headmistress has kindly given me permission to enter the school grounds to have a little tête-à-tête with the Wizarding World's most eligible bachelor – who, much to the dejection of many a young witch and disappointed mama, is now quite unavailable.' She leered coyly at him.

'I wasn't informed that this interview was to take place today!' Draco hissed, glowering at her and pointedly ignoring her implied come-on to him.

'Of course not,' the woman said with an innocent shrug, 'we only got here an hour or so ago and most of the time that followed was spent persuading the headmistress to allow us free reign in the school for a few hours.'

'I don't care! You –!'

'If I remember correctly, reporters are obligated to ask individuals for their consent to hold interviews before they can be arranged,' Blaise spoke over his friend at that moment, frowning at the reporter. 'You have no right to demand any answers of Draco even if Professor McGonagall has allowed you into the grounds.'

Rita shot him a cold look, eyes filling with dislike. 'Well, I'm asking for his permission right now, aren't I?' she said coolly. 'Well, Draco, how about it?' She turned back to the object of her interest. 'Will you answer a few questions – and believe me, they're only a fair few – or ...' her lips curled up in a smirk, 'are you feeling too _shy_ to talk about your fiancée?'

Draco clenched his teeth. 'Fine, but I'll only answer the questions that I want to.'

'Lovely!' Rita crowed triumphantly, flashing her sparkle-white teeth at him. 'Now, shall we go inside to seek a suitable place for –?'

'Right here is fine, Skeeter,' Draco cut across her bluntly, pointedly sitting down on the boulder beside his friend. 'And Blaise is staying,' he added firmly upon seeing Rita open her mouth as she looked at the half-Italian.

'Have it your way then,' she chirped, sitting down comfortably on the grass, undaunted by its moisture. Her photographer looked down at her, nonplussed, before hesitantly lowering himself onto the ground as well.

'Right, let's get started.' She snapped open the crocodile-skin hand bag she always carried with her and whipped out some parchment and an acid-green quill. Draco's eyes widened slightly.

'No!' he said sharply. 'If you're going to use that damn quill, then this so-called interview is over!'

Rita laughed lightly. 'That's rather hypocritical of you, isn't it, Draco? Especially considering what a sly little fox you were during the Triwizard Tournament ...'

The Slytherin tensed as he glared at her slightly. Did she have to bring that up _now_? Beside him, he could sense Blaise staring at him. He did not need to look to know that his friend was probably feeling very curious by now and somewhat worried. He drew in a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

The reporter chuckled again, and this time, there was a mocking hint to it. 'Ah, well, no need to worry, Draco,' she smiled sweetly at him, 'I shall write down your answers word for word. I'll show you it to you if you don't believe me ...'

He exhaled slowly through his mouth before nodding finally. 'Fine, but if that quill of yours distorts anything that I say ...'

Rita took the quill delicately and sucked on its end before carefully placing its tip on the parchment where it remained perfectly balanced and ready. 'Alright, let's start with the simplest,' she began in a mock, business-like tone, 'how did this engagement come about?'

* * *

Ron looked horrified; absolutely one hundred percent horrified.

'Hagrid, _please_ tell me that you were joking just now!'

Their giant friend, still bent over his precious pumpkins, looked up at the Weasley with some concern. 'Wha's wrong, Ron?'

'The ball!' he cried, waving his arms wildly. 'You were joking about the ball thing around Christmas, right?!'

'Er, Ron ...' Harry began to try to calm the red-head down, exchanging a half-amused half-worried look with Hermione at the same time, but her male best friend did not spare any attention to her. He was still staring almost accusingly at Hagrid.

'No, Ron, I wasn' jokin',' Hagrid answered, straightening up. 'I did hear some o' the teachers, includin' Professor McGonagall, talkin' about it. Though if it makes yeh feel better,' he added quickly upon seeing the puce colour that was spreading rapidly across the red-head's face, 'I don' think it's bin confirmed yet.'

'Hagrid,' Hermione said loudly before Ron could locate his vocal cords again, 'what exactly are these events that the teachers are planning?'

'And why are they planning them for this year?' Harry added, puzzled.

'Ah, well, I don' know much about 'em,' Hagrid admitted, picking up his spray bottle again and squirting the yellowish liquid onto the leaves of one his pumpkins. 'What I know fer certain is that they're goin' ter hold a special ceremony aroun' Easter in remembrance of all the Hogwartians and everyone else that died here fightin' You-Know-Who. Yeh know, ter pay 'em our respects.'

'Oh, I see!' Hermione's expression cleared.

'But what's with the bloody _ball_?' Ron exclaimed, still looking as if he was about to have a seizure.

'Still got yer knickers in a twist abou' that, I see,' Hagrid's beard twitched. Harry and Hermione snorted, causing the red-head to scowl and haughtily fold his arms. 'Well, Ron, like I said, I ain' sure abou' the ball, but if they do choose ter hold it, I s'pose it'd be ter give the students and teachers the chance ter enjoy themselves and properly celebrate the end o' the War.'

'I see ...' murmured Harry in a less-than-enthusiastic voice. Though she was not quite as appalled as Ron, she did share his dislike of such events.

'But don' fret too much about it, Ron,' the half-giant grinned down at the teen, 'it ain' confirmed yet.'

'Whatever, I _hate_ balls,' Ron groused, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Hermione gazed at him for a second before turning her eyes away, and Harry caught a sudden look of sadness that flitted across her face momentarily before disappearing.

'Well, anyway,' Hagrid boomed cheerfully, 'I'm done with the pumpkins. Le's go inside fer some tea and yeh can tell me all abou' yer firs' week back!'

Five minutes later, all four of them were seated inside Hagrid's hut with mugs of steaming tea and a plate of rock cakes – which none of the Gryffindors dared to touch – in front of them. Their conversation revolved around school, their lessons and Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class for which, he joyfully announced, quite a remarkable amount of third years had signed up for this year.

Harry listened and participated in the talk with enthusiasm. However, her cheery mood lessened drastically when Hagrid suddenly asked them if they knew of any new interesting happenings. After all, the first thing that came to her mind at his question was a certain blond-haired Slytherin and a white-gold ring that rested on her finger.

She bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little nervous and hesitant. Should she tell Hagrid about that particular turn of events?

Harry was saved the necessity of making a decision right away for, at that moment, Hermione began to recount her trip to Australia to bring back her parents. Harry heaved a mental sigh of relief, but then her thoughts turned back to the dilemma in her mind.

She looked down at her gloved hand contemplatively. If there was one person in the entire world who deserved to know of even the smallest thing that affected her, it was Rubeus Hagrid. He was the first wizard from the Wizarding World that she had known (not counting the odd witch or wizard that she had randomly run into before discovering her magical inheritance), the first friend that she had ever had, and the person who had taken it upon himself to make sure that she learned the truth about herself and had helped her enter the world to which she truly belonged. He deserved to know...

_But,_ Harry argued with herself, _too many people already know about this_. It would have been fine if only Ron and Hermione knew, but Ginny, Neville and Luna knew about the ring, too. Of course, Harry had complete faith in all of her friends to keep her secret, but there was always that small possibility that somehow, someone's tongue might unwittingly slip. And the more people that knew about her engagement, the more those chances rose ... and that was not a wager that Harry could afford to make. Not if she wanted to make absolutely sure that Malfoy never found out about her. _And what with the things that Ron told me this morning..._

_Later,_ she told herself decisively. She would confide in Hagrid later, when the entire mess had been cleaned up; when she was a free, unattached woman again. _I'll tell him later_.

'So, are yer parents fine now?' Hagrid asked when Hermione finished.

She nodded happily. 'Yes, and I was able to lift the Memory Charms, too, and they're perfectly all right now, thank Merlin.'

'Tha's good,' the half-giant grinned back at her. 'So ... anythin' else?'

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but then snapped it shut again suddenly. She glanced at Harry for a second, and the black-haired girl realised at once that she was wondering if they should tell Hagrid about Harry's engagement to Malfoy or not. Guilt rose up inside her, but nevertheless, she very slowly shook her head at Hermione.

Her friend looked at her silently for a moment before giving a barely perceptible nod in understanding. She turned back to Hagrid. 'No, Hagrid, nothing much other than that.' Hermione chuckled slightly. 'After the war, the sudden peace and everything feels a little strange, doesn't it?'

Hagrid nodded in agreement. 'Sure does...'

'Wait,' Ron said suddenly, sitting up straight, 'that reminds me. Hagrid, why don't we have a Defense teacher this year?'

Hagrid's eyes widened and he nearly choked on a mouthful of tea. Harry quickly rose and thumped him on the back when he began to cough.

'A Defense teacher?' He repeated once he had managed to breathe properly again.

'Yes,' Harry nodded, sitting down in her chair again. 'Is something going on, Hagrid? We've never _not_ had a Defense professor before.'

'Ah ...' Hagrid wiped the tea off his mouth and beard with an over-sized napkin. Harry could not help but notice that he was deliberately avoiding their eyes. 'Well, yeh see, the war jus' ended, so I s'pose that Professor McGonagall couldn' find someone fer the post so soon.'

'That's what we thought, but,' Harry looked shrewdly at her old friend, 'then why didn't she say anything about that during the Welcome Feast? And why were we informed of our teacher's absence only through a small notice that was put up on the door of the classroom?'

'And why is Defense even registered on our timetables if we don't have a teacher for this year?' Ron added, frowning in confusion.

Hagrid chuckled uneasily. 'Ah, I dunno. Listen, yeh three, don' beat yer brains about it, a'right? I'm sure there's a reason fer all o' this.'

_And I'm sure that you know that reason,_ Harry thought to herself, but chose to keep silent.

'An' I'm certain that the headmistress will tell yeh if it's anythin' important,' he added, putting down his now empty mug on the table. 'So! Who wants ter go say hello ter Buckbeak?' He grinned disarmingly at them.

The three Gryffindors stared at him, none of them fooled. Harry sighed slightly. Obviously, Hagrid was very reluctant to tell them anything, but that made her even more uneasy about the whole affair. But she could tell that they would not be able to squeeze any information out of him. His obstinacy was impressive – their fruitless efforts to get him to talk about Nicholas Flamel back in first year were solid proof of that.

'All right, then, Hagrid,' she humoured him, getting to her feet, 'let's go see Buckbeak. Where is he anyway?' She did not miss the look of intense relief that passed across his face.

'In that li'l paddock in the Forest where yeh firs' saw him with the other Hippogriffs,' Hagrid answered cheerfully as he lead them outside. 'Le's go. He's bin missin' yeh, Harry.'

* * *

Draco was gradually loosing his mind. The process was slow, but it was definitely happening. _A _few _questions – like hell it was just a _few_ questions!_ No wonder his mother had banned any reporters from their manor during the summer! She had probably foreseen his loss of sanity had they been able to get hold of him for a cross-examination.

'Are you done now?' he asked wearily after having given Rita Skeeter a thorough description of how a ring owner used their rings. He looked down irritably at the woman who was going through her notes.

To his surprise, she had actually kept most of her questions quite professional, but she had craftily tried to squeeze some personal information out of him as well. Draco was really glad that he had made Blaise stay back with him. Had his friend not nudged him in the ribs halfway through the interview, Draco would have found himself unwittingly revealing the exact the wishes he made to Rita (the cunning vixen!) – and that was not something he ever wanted to see printed in the papers. The very thought of the response that would have gotten – especially from various women – made him shudder.

'Almost, Draco,' Rita chirped, not sounding the least bit drained even though she had been questioning him for nearly an hour straight. She scanned her notes again for a moment before looking up at him with a bright smile. 'There's just one more...'

'Finally.' He rolled his eyes. Blaise chuckled amusedly from beside him.

'Now, Draco,' she was using her mock business-like voice again, 'to ask the question that the entire British Wizarding community has been dying to ask you ...' her smile transformed into a hungry leer. 'Who is the lucky girl that is soon to become the next Madam Malfoy?'

Draco's mouth went dry and his eyes hardened. He looked down at Rita's grinning face, trying very hard to keep his breathing normal and his face devoid of any emotions. _Did she have to ask that?_ It was an inevitable question, he supposed, but he had hoped that it would slip her mind. He did not want to answer it. The last thing he wanted was for everyone to know that even after three whole months, even after coming back to Hogwarts, he still did not know who his fiancée was; that the girl had not so much as even made an attempt to contact him; that he had begun to fear, perhaps a little irrationally, that he would never know who it was...

'Well, Draco...?' Rita tipped her head to one side. The Quick Quotes Quill was quivering in its place on her parchment, as if impatient to jot down something.

He released a shaky breath. 'No comment,' he finally managed to say.

Surprise flickered through Rita's eyes for a moment, before her entire face lit up in glee. 'Are you telling me that you don't even know?!' she crowed.

Draco looked sharply at her. 'I did not say that! Forgive me if I don't want the whole world to know who my fiancée is right now!'

She laughed cheerily. 'Is that right? But I doubt that, Draco. That odd expression on your face strongly suggests that you don't really know who she is.' She smirked victoriously at him when she saw the surprise that flickered in his eyes.

His hands balled into fists. 'I _said _I have no comments about it, Rita,' he growled. 'It doesn't mean that I don't know who she is. It means that I don't want _you_ to know! Now, if you are quite finished with your damn interview –!'

'All right, all right, I'm leaving,' Rita sang, still smiling infuriatingly. She rose to her feet and delicately smoothed down her robes.

Draco got to his feet, too, and held out his hand. She raised her eyebrows at him in mild confusion. 'Your notes,' he said pointedly. 'You promised.'

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she handed them over. With a discerning eye, Draco began to read through them and only handed them back after he had ensured that her acid-green quill had not altered anything he had said. To his mild surprise, she had actually noted down everything exactly as he had reported, but at the same time, that made him feel slightly edgy as well. Why that was so, he could not figure out.

Rita took back her notes from him with a flourish and carefully placed them and her quill in her crocodile-skin handbag, before fixing her shrewish eyes on him again.

'I must say, Draco, I'm rather surprised that you're still unaware of your betrothed's identity,' she remarked dryly. Draco opened his mouth to make the same retort he had made before, but she cut him off, 'After all, every witch in the Wizarding World is now dreaming of your engagement and wishing to be your fiancée. And after three months and a week back in Hogwarts, I was quite certain that she would have impatiently introduced herself to you by now, but this is quite unexpected ... It makes me wonder,' her lips curled up slightly, 'did your ring actually accomplish its job or ... has the girl already gotten the ring, but does not want this engagement with you and is avoiding you altogether?'

Draco's eyes widened as her last words cut right through him. He wanted to close his ears against them and protest over and over again that it was not so. That there was another reason why she still had not come forth; that she would definitely come to him soon ... but he could not. Because over the past few months, especially that night in the library right before he had gotten into that row with Weasley, he had begun to wonder the exact same thing...

Rita saw the kaleidoscope of emotions that flashed across his face and a large grin spread across her face. 'Well,' she said in a merry voice, 'I think that interview went quite well. It was nice talking to you, Draco. Perhaps I'll drop by again sometime later.' She winked at him before turning to walk away.

Draco just stared at her retreating back listlessly, his eyes emotionless. He barely noticed it when Rita's photographer took a picture of him before following her. He could not think of anything, except what she had said...

'Draco.'

He looked around blankly at Blaise who was now looking at him with concern. 'Draco,' he repeated firmly, 'if I were you, I wouldn't listen to Skeeter. Don't pay any attention to what she said. You know that it's not true.'

'Do I know that, Blaise?' Draco asked softly. 'Do I really know whether the girl will reveal herself or not?'

'She will, Draco. You're losing heart too soon. It's only been a few days since you came back to Hogwarts. There's still time. Besides,' he added wisely, 'she could be anywhere. How do we even know if she attends the same school as ours? She could be somewhere else, and perhaps she is unable to personally introduce herself to you right now.'

'Blaise,' he replied quietly, 'I doubt that. When I was making my wishes, I made it clear to the ring that I would prefer someone I already know – and all the women that I know are here in Hogwarts; I don't know any girls outside school. And think about it: it's been three months, and a week since I came back to school – isn't that sufficient enough time for her to finally come up and reveal herself to me?'

'Maybe she's shy, Draco,' Blaise pointed out.

'Or ... maybe Skeeter is right,' Draco mumbled, staring off into space. 'Maybe she really doesn't want anything to do with me...'

'Drake –!' Blaise began sharply, but Draco was no longer listening. He began to walk away towards the forest.

'I want some time alone, Blaise ... I'll be back later.'

His friend could only watch with trepidation and worry as the blond disappeared into the trees.

* * *

'HARRY! There you are!'

Harry jumped in surprise at the loud voice that sounded from behind her. She turned away from a very happy and contented Buckbeak that she and her three friends had been stroking, to see a flushed and widely grinning Ginny Weasley come running up to them through the trees that surrounded the paddock.

'Ginny?' Ron said, looking round at his sister in puzzlement.

'What is it, Gin?' Harry asked, stepping towards the red-haired Weasley girl who came to a stop a few feet away from her.

'Here,' she held out a small roll of parchment to Harry which the black-haired girl accepted. Ginny leaned her palms against her knees, trying to catch her breath. 'It's from ... Professor ... McGonagall ...' she panted, a wide smile still on her face.

Raising her eyebrows, Harry quickly undid the seal and unrolled the parchment.

'Wha's it say?' Hagrid asked as he tethered his beloved Hippogriff to a low, but strong-looking post that stood in the middle of the enclosure. 'Yer not in trouble again, are yeh?'

Harry scanned through the letter quickly, choosing to ignore Hagrid's unintended insult. 'McGonagall wants to see me in her office tonight,' she murmured, her brows furrowing. 'Hmm, that's all it says.'

'I wonder what she wants to talk to you about,' Hermione commented thoughtfully, giving Buckbeak one last pet on the beak before stepping away from him. 'Ginny,' she added, looking around at the younger girl, 'why do you look so happy?'

The grin on Ginny's face widened even more as she straightened up from her bent posture. 'Oh Merlin, you won't believe ...' she gasped through helpless giggles. 'You guys, Seamus ... he ... he ...' She began to laugh uncontrollably again. 'Oh, you have to see it! He's just set it up in the Entrance Hall.'

'Seamus? Set what up? What are you talking about?' Ron asked confusedly.

'Oh, come on! You have to see it!' Ginny began to run back towards the castle again, still laughing. The three seventh years exchanged looks of bewilderment before they took off after the red-haired girl. Hagrid merely laughed at the sight of them before waving at their retreating forms with a yell of, 'I'll see yeh later, then!'

'Ginny,' Harry huffed as she leapt over a fallen log, 'what exactly is Seamus up to?'

'You'll see,' Ginny panted; the grin on her face was evident even in her voice. 'He's got guts, that bloke!'

Hermione began to laugh at that. 'I think I can guess now.'

Still trying to figure it all out, Harry continued to run after her fellow Gryffindors. They weaved through the tall trees and had almost made it out of the forest when she saw what looked like a bright flash in her peripheral vision. Taken by surprise, she slowed to a walk and turned back to face the way she had come.

At first, she saw nothing as she gazed around at the greenery, taking in how the late morning light filtered down through the canopy of leaves. Her eyes searched for that flash again. _What was it?_

Harry stood still for a long moment. The sound of her friends, none of whom had noticed that she had fallen back, slowly faded away into the distance. She licked her lips and began to turn away, wondering if she had only imagined it, but just as she was about to leave, she saw it out of the corner of her eyes again and Harry whirled around at once.

_Huh? Malfoy?_

She stared at the Slytherin who was silently making his way through the trees. He was about thirty or so feet away from her to her right, and had not noticed her yet. Harry quickly stepped behind the nearest tree and peered out from behind its trunk curiously.

He continued to walk further away from her, hands buried deep into his pockets and his head hanging low. The beams of sunlight that managed to squeeze through the leafy canopy overhead occasionally struck him, lighting up his pale hair, and Harry realised that that must have been the flash she had seen.

Harry gazed at him for a few more seconds. She had never seen Malfoy wandering about in the Forbidden Forest alone before and his purpose and motives intrigued her. _What's he doing here? _She wondered before carefully stepping out from behind the tree. Making sure not to step on any twigs as much as possible, Harry began to follow him deeper into the forest, eager to sate her curiosity.

* * *

Draco finally stopped walking when he arrived at a small open space in the forest. He looked around the small clearing and, not seeing any creatures occupying the place, proceeded over to a large rock that stood somewhere close to the centre of the small glade and sat down. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his palms before he finally allowed his mind, which had been blissfully blank till then, to wander and reflect on the matter at hand.

_... Has the girl already gotten the ring, but does not want this engagement with you and is avoiding you altogether?_ Rita Skeeter's words rang once more through his mind and Draco squeezed his eyes shut. Was that truly the reason? He wondered, trying to stay calm. The reporter might not have realised it back then, but she had nailed it straight home. Draco himself had been thinking along the same lines, but he had done so tentatively and had never pondered on it for long, fearing that it might be true. He did not want to imagine why someone would be so revolted at the very thought of him that she would not even let him know that it was she who had been chosen by the ring.

He took a deep breath. _Maybe it's not true_, he told himself, _like Blaise said. There may be a lot of reasons as to why she's still not here_. But try as he might, he could not convince himself. After all, a long time had passed since his birthday and Draco could not think of a reasonable excuse as to why the girl had not even sent ahead so much as a letter to him. Also, there was the fact that the only girls he actually knew were those that attended Hogwarts with him. after a week, surely she should have come round by now?

_Or did the magic on the ring malfunction like Skeeter said_? He wondered desperately, but even then, he knew that it could not be so. The enchantments cast on the rings had remained intact throughout the centuries, and they had been stored in the Malfoy vault in Gringotts, even after the escape of that dragon, under the highest security. Not to mention that they had had the greatest and strongest protection wards that his parents could think of cast upon them. There was no possibility that the rings were tampered with – and he seriously doubted that wizards nowadays would know of any spells strong enough to damage them.

Draco sighed into his hands. Whichever way he thought of it, it all pointed to the same thing: his fiancée wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. She would not even approach him. Draco did not want to finish that thought off as his final conclusion. He wanted to believe that there really could be another explanation, but for the moment, he could think of nothing.

_Perhaps this is my punishment_, he thought, lifting his head and staring into the trees. _For believing in the Dark Lord and his ideals, for betraying the Light, for being such a bastard for all these years ... _All he had asked of the rings was for someone with a kind heart and morals that would love him and give him the chance to redeem himself, but he still had not found her ... and maybe that was because he did not deserve a woman like her...

Draco continued to stare into space with dull eyes. He felt tired and he did not want to think anymore, but the thoughts refused to leave his mind. Unable to help himself, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, one that he had taken to carrying around with him as a source of hope and comfort. He eyed the dark navy velvet that covered it before opening it carefully. Inside, resting on a velvet cushion that was of a lighter blue was a small crystal pendant in the shape of a teardrop that hung on a delicate, silver chain.

Carefully, he removed it from the box and held it up to the sunlight, admiring the millions of sparkles that the gem gave off. A small smile lit his face for a moment before fading. The necklace had been his mother's gift to him on his birthday. _It belonged to my mother before me, and it's been in the Black family for many generations,_ she had told him that day. _When you find your fiancée, and if you decide that she's the one for you, give it to her, Dragon. As a symbol of both our love for her, and to welcome her to our family._

He stroked the crystal with a finger before placing it back in its box. He was beginning to doubt that he would ever be able to give this necklace to that girl, whoever she might be.

Draco stood up and put the box back into his pocket. He was about to turn and return to the castle when he felt the presence of something else in the clearing. Startled, he turned his head and froze to the spot when he saw what it was that had joined him.

It stood in the shadows where the sunlight could not reach it, still and unmoving as it gazed at him with its pupil-less, white eyes. The strong, black wings stretched once before they were folded back again close to the flesh-less horse-like body. A low, guttural noise sounded from deep within its throat and it took a hesitant step towards him.

The Slytherin stood still for a moment, but then he cautiously began to walk towards the Thestral, drawn to the beast. It watched his approach with wary eyes, but did not run off nor make a move to attack. When he was just a couple of feet away from the creature, Draco halted and raised a hand uncertainly. The Thestral did not move for a long moment and the blond almost lowered his hand again, but then it stepped forward and nuzzled Draco's inviting palm.

He could not stop the smile that broke across his face and he stepped closer to the creature. With his other hand, he stroked its long, black mane, surprised at and loving the softness of the messy hair. It let loose another raspy sound, but this time, it sounded like it was enjoying the attention.

'You know,' Draco murmured softly, not caring that he was talking to a creature that probably did not understand a word that he was saying, 'at first, your strange appearance can scare off anybody who crosses your path. But if they give you a second chance, then no one can deny your beauty...'

He eyed the creature, which now had its eyes closed as he wound his fingers in its mane, before asking quietly, 'Do you believe that everyone, even people like me, deserve a second chance to prove themselves...?'

The only answer he received was a soft snort and nothing more.

* * *

From her hiding place behind another tree, Harry stared at the scene in front of her with wide, thoughtful eyes. For the first time, she was at a loss for words; she had no idea what to think.

She had followed Malfoy all the way to this little clearing and there was nothing that she could make of his actions. Well, technically, he had not actually _done_ anything. But when she had seen him sitting on that rock with such a brooding look on his face, and when he had been examining whatever it was that he had taken out of his pocket, her curiosity about what had been on his mind had reached its peak. She did not know why she felt so drawn to him, or why she felt such great interest in his thoughts, but it gnawed at her mind incessantly.

_And now ..._ Harry watched him stroke the Thestral with slow, tender movements. A small smile still graced his face, highlighting his good looks, and he was standing right in a beam of sunlight that filtered through the leaves and formed a halo of light around his blond hair. A part of her mind wondered whose death it was that Malfoy had witnessed to be able to see a Thestral; the other half remained focussed on how calm he now looked in sharp contrast to the earlier pensiveness that had surrounded him.

Harry stood where she was for a few more minutes, watching him stroking and murmuring to his companion, and then she turned and headed back to the castle as silently as she could. A part of her wanted to go back and watch that tranquil, serene scene again, but she could not shake off the feeling that she was intruding on something private and personal.

However, Harry could not help but turn to look over her shoulder one last time. And, at that moment, all she could think was that she had never before seen Draco Malfoy look so human as he did then.

* * *

**A/N: Before you start asking/accusing me: YES, darlings, the time for THE BIG REVEAL is _extremely_ close! Also, why Draco is being so infuriatingly blind, and why Harry has been acting so childish about the whole thing - there are reasons behind them. Not ground-breaking earth-shaking stuff, oh no, but there are reasons. They will be revealed in due time.  
**

**Credit for Ron's comment about Draco being _"Hogwarts' resident aristoprick"_ goes to _Isabelle Eir_, who referred to Draco as such in one of her reviews.**** Truly, it's an awesome and very accurate way of describing Draco Malfoy. ;P  
**

**On another note: if there are any ideas for this fic that you'd like to tell me, then fire away. I cannot make any promises, but I'd be glad to hear them. :)**

**Feedback, especially constructive criticism, will be much loved and appreciated! Thank you, all my lovely readers and reviewers!  
**

**ON THE WAY: _CHAPTER TWELVE - Cat's Out of the Bag?_  
**


	12. Cat's Out of the Bag?

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: Alrighty! Another chapter! XD But before we begin, I wanna say to _Taylor Murphy_: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy the fic and if you really want, I could email you and let you know when I update. However, I don't think it's the best idea. Internet safety and all that, you know. If it's not inconvenient for you, may I suggest opening an account here and putting the fic on your alerts? It's safer and easier. :)**

**DEDICATION: For my darling cousin, Euko-chan, as an early birthday gift. Happy fifteenth, brat! Thank you so much for all the love and support you've given me and this fic. It wouldn't have progressed this well without you! X3  
**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER TWELVE: CAT'S OUT OF THE BAG?**

'Harry, where in the world were you?!'

Hermione's shrill voice snapped Harry out of her thoughts and she looked up to see her two best friends and an impatient-looking Ginny standing near the foot of the steps leading to the Entrance Hall. They had obviously been waiting for her. Hermione had a look of tremendous worry on her face while Ron merely shot Harry a questioning look as she approached them.

Harry dragged on a reassuring smile as she quickly increased her speed. She had been so consumed in thinking about Malfoy and that scene in the Forbidden Forest that she had completely forgotten about her friends.

'Don't worry, I'm fine,' she said quickly when she saw Hermione peering anxiously at her face.

'But where'd you go off to?' Hermione pressed.

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second before cautiously venturing with a nonchalant shrug, 'Nowhere.'

For some inexplicable reason, she did not feel like sharing what she had witnessed in the Forest. Even the very idea of confiding in her friends – it felt like it would be some sort of a betrayal, as if what she had seen in the seclusion of those trees was for her eyes alone. The ethereal vision of Draco Malfoy surrounded by nature and standing in a golden shaft of sunlight appeared in her mind's eye again; she could still picture him stroking that Thestral, watching it with such tender eyes and talking to the beast, almost as if it were his only trusted companion in a harsh, lonely world ... it reminded her so much of her own self, when she would feel so unbearably alone, like there was an unseen barrier between her and the rest of the world, because she was different from the rest...

The sound of Hermione's voice brought her back to Earth yet again. Harry looked round bemusedly at her friend only to hear that she was still making the same inquiry all over again.

'Mione!' Harry rolled her eyes, beginning to grow annoyed now. 'I already told you, I didn't go anywhere, OK!'

'But then –'

'Just drop it, Hermione,' Ron interrupted her quietly with just a hint of a warning in his voice. The bushy-haired girl recognised his tone at once and snapped her mouth shut. There was a touch of embarrassment and hurt on her face as she averted her eyes from Harry.

Harry bit her lip, feeling a little guilty at the look on Hermione's features, but she sent Ron a smile of gratitude nevertheless. He gave a short nod in reply and Harry got the feeling that she would always be indebted to him in a way, seeing that he was the only one who could control Hermione's overbearing mother-hen attitude so that Harry could have a little space.

Ginny's imperious tones shattered the tense atmosphere at that moment. 'Alright, if you two are quite finished interrogating Harry, can we go in, please? Seamus might have already started it by now!'

'Oh, yes. Seamus. Of course,' Harry said hastily, glad for the change in subject.

'Yeah, what exactly is the bloke planning again?' Ron raised an eyebrow at his sister as the four them hurried up the steps. 'Or do I even want to know?' he added hesitantly as they reached the open doors of Hogwarts and saw the throngs of students milling about in the Entrance Hall.

'Oh, just shut up and _get in there_!' Ginny grabbed Ron by his shirt sleeve and yanked him inside with the other two girls following.

Harry looked around curiously at all the commotion around them. All the Hogwarts' students appeared to have crammed themselves into the Hall. Their excited voices rebounded off the high walls and Harry realised that most of them seemed to be facing a certain direction in general. Turning, Harry's eyes widened when she saw a humongous cloth-screen dominating the normally blank wall to her right. It was black in colour and reached as high as the ceiling. She stared in both disbelief and confusion.

'Impressive, isn't it?' Ginny remarked, grinning at Harry.

She raised her eyebrows. 'Impressive that Seamus managed to put that up there, yes. The thing itself is not all that impressive, though.' Harry shot Ginny a mildly frustrated look. 'You dragged us all the way over here just to see this –'

'Excessively unremarkable piece of utter dung?' Ron filled in for her, perfectly straight-faced. Harry and Hermione snorted.

'Dung? _Dung_?!'

Harry jumped as Seamus' exclamation sounded right in her ear. The sandy-haired boy elbowed his way forward so that he was standing directly in front of the trio.

'How can you call this stroke of genius _dung_?' Seamus pulled on a ridiculously comical look of despair as if he had been morally wronged. 'That, my dear acquaintances,' he said, dramatically gesturing at the black screen, 'is only the beginning, the crimson cherry on top of the mouth-watering ice cream of all the lovely schemes that my devious brain has prepared for that most revolutionary event in Hogwarts' history, otherwise known as ... _Inter house Unity_!' He practically yelled out the last part at the top of his lungs as he threw his arms out (and successfully thwacked Dennis Creevey in the face, nearly knocking out the unfortunate boy's eyes).

Harry and her friends just stared blankly at Seamus for a few moments in silence, and then,

'I have absolutely no idea what he just said,' Ron stated bluntly.

'Honestly, Ron, except for those last two words, neither do I,' Ginny muttered.

'Yeah, maybe it's better for everyone's mental health if you just don't make any high-flown speeches,' Harry added carelessly, smirking slightly at Seamus who looked quite put out that his theatrical dialogue had not made much of an impression on anyone.

'So,' Hermione spoke up at last, 'what is really the point of that ... thing, Seamus?'

A mischievous grin spread across the Irishman's face. 'I'm glad you asked! Now, ladies and gentleman, just watch and learn.' With that, he whirled around and aimed his wand at the screen, murmuring an incantation that Harry could not catch. She stared keenly at the black screen.

Nothing happened.

'That's it?' Ron snorted derisively. 'Yeah, _that's_ a real eye-opener there, Seam –'

_BANG!_

Quite a few people screamed at the sound of the explosion. Backing away with everyone else, Harry gaped at the screen; it was ablaze, though it was no ordinary fire. Flames of a multitude of various colours, ranging from red and gold to blue and green, licked at the black cloth, but they did not appear to be causing it any damage. Slowly, the blaze died down and, before it completely abated, another explosion sounded from the screen, throwing a huge wave of golden sparks onto the watchful mob. Instinctively, Harry ducked her head, covering her eyes with a hand, and only lowered it once the sparks had vanished.

Looking up, she now saw that the black screen was no longer bare, but had a fiery design emblazoned on it. Directly in the centre was the Hogwarts crest: a large letter H surrounded by a Lion, a Serpent, a Raven and a Badger, with the school's motto, _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_, directly below. A moment later, more words, in the same fiery script, appeared above the emblem: _United We Stand, Divided We Fall_. They were, Harry remembered, the same words that Albus Dumbledore had spoken during one of his many speeches. He would have been quite touched to see this, Harry thought, a small smile unfolding on her face.

A few seconds passed before all the students in the Entrance Hall broke into applause. 'Good one, Leprechaun Boy!' someone shouted and Seamus beamed proudly as he took a large bow.

Chuckling, Harry began to clap, too. 'Alright, Seamus,' she said loudly over the noise so that he could hear her, 'I've changed my mind. I'm quite impressed!'

'Me, too,' Ron added, running a hand through his hair sheepishly.

'Of course, you are!' Seamus replied with a rather obnoxious grin as he slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. 'We're human beings; we're easily impressed by things that go _kaboom_ with lots and lots of pretty colours to match!'

Everyone within hearing distance burst out laughing.

'Actually,' Hermione smiled, once the laughter had died down, 'that screen is quite a good idea, Seamus. "United we stand, divided we fall" – that's really very thoughtful of you...'

'Too thoughtful,' Ron frowned slightly. 'To be honest, I was expecting something a lot crazier from you –'

Another explosion sounded from the screen at that very second and the Hogwarts crest and the words upon it slowly disappeared only to be replaced with –

Harry gaped at the black cloth-screen, wide-eyed. Next moment, she was doubled over, guffawing uproariously just as the rest of the students lost their wits as well.

The words on the screen now read: _I LOVE YOU, MILLIE._

'You know what? Forget I said anything,' Ron choked through his hysterics, leaning on a laughing Hermione for support.

'Oh, Merlin! Millicent Bulstrode will murder him,' Harry said, still sniggering as she straightened up.

'Doesn't look like he cares much about that, does he?' Ginny remarked with a snort, nodding towards Seamus who had wandered over to the front of the crowd and was now blowing kisses to his admiring peers.

Harry shook her head, amused. She turned to Ginny, remembering how pleased she had looked when they had met in the Forbidden Forest. 'You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?' she asked, pointing at the screen where the word _LOVE_ was now rapidly changing colour from fiery gold to red to silver and back again.

Ginny flushed. 'Dean told me,' she admitted with a rather embarrassed smile.

Chortling, Harry turned back to Seamus. 'Trust him to turn everything, even friendship among Houses, into a joke!'

'Well ... I suppose so, but you know what, Harry? I think Seamus actually sort of meant it.'

'What?' Harry gaped at Ginny disbelievingly. 'Are you telling me that he's known Millicent Bulstrode for only a week and he's already in love with her?!'

'No-o,' her friend sounded uncertain. 'Um, I think it's more like a crush or something, actually. He seems to really fancy Millicent. Something about her being very feisty and tough; apparently he likes that sort of thing in girls and I guess that he took this "Inter house Unity" thing as a chance to give her a hint that he likes her.'

Harry raised her eyebrows at the red-haired girl before shooting a very pointed glance at the black screen. It was now alternatively flashing the Hogwarts' crest and _I LOVE YOU, MILLIE_.

'A _hint_?' she drawled, folding her arms across her chest.

Ginny giggled, running her fingers through her hair in a manner rather reminiscent of Ron. 'Well, OK, so maybe Seamus does need some urgent lessons in subtlety ...' she trailed off, a crease appearing on her forehead as she turned to glance over her shoulder. At the same time, Harry realised that the Entrance Hall had grown very quiet and turning around, she immediately saw the cause of it.

Standing atop the marble staircase, her hands resting on her hips and her blazing eyes fixed directly on one doomed Seamus Finnegan, was Millicent Bulstrode – and she did not look very happy.

Harry could almost hear all the students thinking '_Uh oh_' in unison as they turned as one to stare at Seamus. He beamed happily up at Millicent, not bothered at all by her hostile glare, and he gave her a cheerful little wave, calling, 'Heyaz, Millie!'

_He's dead_, Harry decided, unable to suppress a small grin when Ron abruptly shouted from behind her, 'Five sickles on Bulstrode!' Within seconds, most of the other students had enthusiastically taken up on the bet as the Slytherin girl descended down the stairs, her eyes promising a painful and bloody murder.

_So dead_.

* * *

In the end, Ron had managed to win himself a total amount of ninety seven sickles. He happily dangled his money bag under Seamus' bandaged nose later that night after he, Harry and Hermione had returned to the Common Room after dinner.

'I'm rich!' Ron crowed joyfully as he collapsed into one of the armchairs by the fire, directly opposite Seamus and Dean. He cradled his money bag to his chest lovingly. 'I should gamble more often.'

'No, you shouldn't!' Hermione snapped, slapping Ron sharply on the shoulder as she sat down beside him. 'It's a horrid addiction! How're you feeling?' she added concernedly, turning to look at Seamus.

Harry, who was seated on the same sofa as the teen in question, snorted softly at Hermione's question as she glanced amusedly at Seamus. He was a complete mess; there was no other way to describe him. His eyes were blackened, his nose was broken and he had a remarkable amount of colourful bruises along both his arms and also, Harry suspected, on various other obscure parts of his body. His Potion's partner had not been at all merciful (until Professors Slughorn and McGonagall had dragged her away), but Seamus did not seem to care about that. He had even refused to allow Madam Pomfrey to properly patch him up.

'Psh, no worries, Hermione,' Seamus said breezily, waving her concern away. 'I'm perfectly alright.'

'I'm sure,' Ron drawled, rolling his eyes. 'Merlin, Seamus, she beat you up so bad –!'

'Well, that's not very surprising,' Hermione interjected. 'I suppose that any girl would feel embarrassed if someone hung a huge screen reading "I love you" on it in front of the whole school –'

'But still,' Harry cut her off, 'the way she went at you – it was scary! Honestly, Seamus, do you think it's a good idea to pursue the woman? I mean ... you think can have a ... well, a _healthy_ relationship with her...?'

'Of course!' he exclaimed, looking quite offended. 'It's just a little hard to crack her shell is all, but just you wait, I'll get through to her yet.' A sudden smile crossed his face. 'She's so fiery, but I'll make her see that she likes me, too ...'

Harry raised her eyebrows wryly. 'Why do I get the feeling that you're actually very happy that she hit you?'

Seamus grinned wolfishly. 'Well, she _touched_ me at least, didn't she? She's never _touched_ me before. Hey, Hermione, how long do you think it's safe to stay without washing my face?'

Harry buried her face in her hands to muffle her laughter. As disturbing as Seamus' attitude to the whole situation was, she still found it absurdly funny. Above her, she could hear Hermione's quiet chuckles and Ron loudly saying, 'Mate, that's masochism right there, I'm serious!'

'Don't be an idiot, Ron. I'm _not_ being masochistic!'

'No, you're just effing crazy! Dean, you agree with me that he needs help, right?'

Snorting, Harry leaned back in her seat and glanced at her wristwatch. The smile on her face slowly faded when she saw that it was nearly eight o' clock.

'Hey, I'll see you four later,' she said, jumping up.

'Where are you going?' Hermione asked.

'To see McGonagall; she said she wanted to meet me tonight, remember? I should see her before it gets too late.'

Waving at her friends who once more resumed their debate on Seamus' sanity (or lack thereof), Harry quickly left the Common Room. A few minutes later, she was standing in front of the stone gargoyle that barred the way to the Headmistress' office.

Harry quickly gave the password that Professor McGonagall had mentioned in the note she had sent her. The gargoyle sprang to life and lightly leapt to one side, granting her access to the spiralling staircase behind it that slowly revolved upwards like an escalator. Harry hurried inside and soon, she was facing the familiar pair of polished oak doors that she had knocked on so many times during her time at Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall answered with a curt, 'Come in' when Harry knocked. She looked up from her paperwork and, without further ado, motioned for Harry to take a seat when the Gryffindor entered the handsome, circular room.

'You wanted to see me, Professor?' Harry asked as she sat down on one of the hard, wooden chairs in front of the Headmistress' table. Behind her, Harry caught sight of the portrait of Albus Dumbledore winking at her. She bit back a smile.

'Yes, Miss Potter, thank you for being prompt,' Professor McGonagall answered crisply, moving aside the bundle of papers she had been working on before fixing the raven-haired girl with her beady eyes. 'I wanted to ask you, would you like to be reinstated on the Quidditch team?'

Harry, who had not been expecting to hear such a question, almost fell out of her chair. 'What?' she stammered, straightening up.

'The Gryffindor Quidditch team,' McGonagall repeated impatiently, looking as if she was refraining from rolling her eyes with great difficulty. 'Would you like to be reinstated as captain?'

'I – I ...' Harry stared at her Head of House, open-mouthed, still struggling to digest what she had heard. Her professor wanted her back on the team? That was – that was ... Coherent thought was beyond her as an explosion of both incredulity and joy took place within her heart. She had thought that those days were over, that she had lost her chance when she had dropped out last year...

A look of faint amusement crossed the features of the Headmistress when she saw Harry's jumbled expression. 'I put up the usual notice asking interested Gryffindor candidates to give me their names,' she elaborated, 'and I had all of your former team members badgering me to bring you back as the team captain. Many of them added that they would refuse to try out for this year's team if I didn't because, to put it in the words of Miss Demelza Robins, _Harry is one of the best captains and seekers we've ever had so far and it's pointless to have a Gryffindor team without her_!'

Harry could do nothing but gape at Professor McGonagall, speechless. Her words slowly sunk in at last and her heart warmed and expanded with affection for her former team and their loyalty.

'Well, Miss Potter?' Professor McGonagall prompted. 'What will it be? I informed your friends that I would leave the decision entirely up to you.'

'I ... yes,' Harry said, coming out of her daze. She nodded her head vigorously. 'My answer's yes, Professor. I'd love to be back on the team.' She could not stop the large grin that unfurled on her face. She was back on her beloved team! She could play Quidditch once more! The familiar adrenaline and exhilaration that she always felt out on the pitch were beginning to race through her nerves again...

'Very well,' McGonagall nodded sharply at her, but Harry could not help thinking that she sounded rather relieved and happy as well. 'As of now, you're the team captain and I trust that you will fulfil your responsibilities to the fullest. I shall give you the names of the interested candidates next week. As before, who is chosen for the team is your choice. And, Potter,' she added pointedly, 'do try your best, won't you? We had to cut off Quidditch last year courtesy of those ...' her lips curled in disgust, '... _Death Eaters_ ... but as things are going back to normal now, I'd be loathed to give up the Quidditch Cup to another House.'

'Yes, Professor,' Harry grinned, already knowing how competitive Professor McGonagall could be when it came to Quidditch. Apparently, for her, the fact that she was still Head of Gryffindor House and wanting her House to win was more imperative than her being the Headmistress of the whole school.

McGonagall nodded absently and waved her away. 'You're dismissed.'

Harry was almost to the door when another thought stopped her. Hesitantly, she turned to face the other woman. Professor McGonagall was extremely strict and she was not sure she could squeeze any answers from her teacher, but it was worth a try all the same...

'Yes, what is it?' McGonagall shot at her when she saw that Harry had still not left her office.

Harry squared her shoulders and met the Headmistress' shrewd gaze determinedly. 'Professor,' she ventured carefully, 'I understand that it is not my place, but ... are we to have a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?'

Maybe she was imagining things, but Harry fancied that she saw a hint of anxiety in Professor McGonagall's eyes before she abruptly looked down at the piece of parchment before her. 'We are trying our best to find a suitable teacher for the post, Miss Potter. It is a difficult task what with the War having had just ended, but,' she raised her voice pointedly when she saw Harry opening her mouth to interrupt, 'we shall _inform_ the students, Potter, of our ... progress.' Which quite easily translated to: "If there's anything to worry about or anything you should know, I shall let you know, so stop badgering me needlessly!"

Harry snapped her mouth shut, frustrated and unsatisfied. There was still something wrong with the picture; some piece of the puzzle that refused to fall into place. Hagrid, McGonagall – they all kept saying that the students would be given a decent head's up if anything serious was happening, but that did not clarify why they were so eager to avoid the topic of a Defence professor. Nor did the Headmistress' failure to explain said Professor's absence during the Welcome Feast add up to anything. Something, Harry was certain, was going on and major effort was being put to keep it silent and discreet.

However, feeling the sharp _end-of-discussion-now-please-leave-my-office_ vibes exuding off her teacher, Harry admitted defeat for the time being and quietly left the circular room, ignoring the curious eyes of all the portraits that were fixed on her. Deep in fruitless thoughts that only went in circles and gave no answers, Harry broke into a run at the base of the spiralling staircase and barrelled past the stone gargoyle that had leapt aside for her, eager to return to her common room and –

'_Oomph_!' she grunted when she collided into something hard, tall, and apparently alive since "it" let out a winded groan as well. Her momentum sent both of them tumbling to the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and torsos. 'Ow,' she heard her unintended victim hiss in pain and Harry, typically managing to feel guilty even at that moment, realised that the person must have hit their head on the stone floor.

She lay still for a few seconds, catching her breath, before she raised her head to see that she was – oh, would you believe it?! – on top of whoever it was that she had so unceremoniously crashed into. _Is this becoming a habit, ending up lying on top of people? _She wondered dazedly, blinking her eyes rapidly.

In the next moment, Harry would realise that, yes, it truly was becoming a habit, but – oh yes, there was a _but_ – a habit that appeared to involve just one individual only.

She stared down in disbelief at Draco Malfoy's silver-grey eyes that glared back accusingly at her.

_Again?! No, shit!_

_

* * *

_

Draco wondered dryly just what the odds were of the same woman falling on top of him thrice within the space of one week. His logic told him that the odds were quite minimal, but Fate, it seemed, was determined to prove him wrong – and here was the proof. For the third time, Draco found himself lying painfully on his back with one very shocked and embarrassed-looking Hariah Potter sprawled on his chest.

_This is becoming ridiculously cyclic_.

'You know, Potter,' he drawled when she failed to react, 'I am seriously beginning to doubt that your tendency to fall on me every opportunity you get is genuinely accidental. Are you on some sort of _noble mission_ to crush the life out of me?'

She ignored his jibe and rolled off his body quickly. Her face was flushed red and she avoided his eyes as she struggled to her feet.

Repressing a groan, Draco sat up and rubbed the back of his head tenderly. For a moment, the memory of the last time he had been in this exact same position on the library floor arose in his mind, and colour suffused his cheeks when he remembered the _accident_. But then, his irritation and annoyance overrode it.

Honestly, couldn't he even take a simple detour to see the Headmistress without suffering physical injury in the process? He had just wanted to ask her not to allow in any more nosy reporters, but apparently, he had to nearly have his skull cracked open by the _Chosen One_ as a price.

Inside, Draco knew that it was just his bad mood that was making him mentally lash out at Potter (who _probably_ had not meant to run him over, his logic whispered), but still, that did not stop him from glowering furiously at the girl as he got to his feet. He was still incensed and emotionally shaken from his earlier conversation with Rita Skeeter; that temporary peace he had experienced in the Thestral's company had lasted only for so long before his insecurities had returned in full force, and now it felt good to have someone near at hand to take his anger out on.

For just a second, Hariah Potter shot him a look that was both apologetic and guilty. Her eyes lingered concernedly on his aching head, and then she turned to hurry away, awkwardly mumbling 'Sorry' over her shoulder.

'What, no _kiss_ this time, _Harry_?' Draco said snidely, unable to help himself.

As expected, she stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face him, her eyes shooting daggers. Draco smirked, pleased to have gotten a rise out of her so easily. It was a good feeling to know that he still had the same effect on her nerves that he had had for all these years.

'What,' Potter hissed angrily, jabbing a finger in his direction, 'is your problem, Malfoy?'

'I believe that it is _you_ who can't seem to keep yourself off me?'

'You know perfectly well that I didn't do it on purpose,' she snapped exasperatedly, storming towards him. 'And if you had cared to listen just now, pretty boy, I _said_ I was sorry!'

'Aw, you think I'm pretty?' He leered at her, deliberately disregarding the rest of what she had said. 'No wonder you can't keep your hands to yourself.'

Her jaw nearly hit the ground. She glared at him in outrage, eyes bulging. 'You – you – I ... You're so bloody obnoxious!' She was almost yelling now. 'Why would you think that I would even_ want_ to touch you?!'

'Well, for one thing, you're invading my personal bubble,' he drawled easily, smirking. Potter opened her mouth to retort, but her words caught in her throat when she saw that he was right. In her fury, she had come to stand right in front of him, much closer than strictly necessary. They were only separated by mere inches.

'Honestly, Potter, if you wanted to touch so desperately, all you had to do was ask,' he said mock-indulgently, aiming an infuriating smile at her.

He knew that he was angering her; he could see it in her eyes as she glared defiantly at him, refusing to back down. The sight of her outrage egged him on, calming the bitterness that Skeeter had evoked in him.

It was something he had been doing from a very young age: transferring his anger into someone else with a few choice phrases and insults. It helped to soothe his nerves and made him feel like he was the one in charge, and that was comforting. However, it probably was not exactly a "good" thing for him to do now that he was supposed to be all Light and everything, but somehow, the process still managed to make him feel good; it was oddly calming.

_Besides_, Draco thought, _old habits die hard._

Meanwhile, Potter was visibly struggling not to lose control. Her hands were balled into fists at her side and her eyes were fixed on his face, filled with antipathy and abhorrence. His lips twitched at the familiarity of her aggressive glare.

Draco tsk'ed. 'Staring so much at me, Potter. Like what you see?'

She was about to make a scathing reply, but Draco stepped forward, closing the distance between their bodies and effectively shutting her up. 'I didn't know you swung my way, Potter,' he continued in a purr, smirking down at her upturned face. 'You really should have let me known sooner.'

He could feel her trembling against him, but whether from anger or embarrassment he was not sure. Both emotions had graced her features at his close proximity and if looks could kill, he knew that he would have dropped dead ten times over by now. He was about to make a sardonic comment about that when abruptly, almost involuntarily, Potter's eyes dipped to focus on his mouth. Draco did not miss the blush that immediately spread over her face, nor could he resist the leer that forced itself onto his lips.

'What are you thinking about?' He murmured, leaning closer.

Potter squeezed her eyes shut and made to back away but, without thinking, Draco shot out an arm and wrapped it around her waist, pinning her to him.

'Are you remembering?' Draco breathed, crushing her even closer to him.

She was gazing at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. All traces of anger and antagonism had vanished.

'Tell me, _Harry_, are you remembering? That little incident in the library? Is that what you're thinking about?' At his words, her eyes darted to his lips again. Draco smirked slightly, relishing the power he was having over her. 'I think you are,' he crooned, angling his head so close to hers that their noses brushed together. 'Tell me, did you enjoy it? Do you want another one, perhaps? Another ... kiss?' His lips lightly grazed over hers tantalisingly.

'Ma – Malfoy, what ... what are you doing?' Her voice was cracked and had a slight tremor. Gone was the passionate fire of her rage and fury. Hearing the contrasting difference in her tone was what finally brought him back to his senses. His eyes focussed on her green ones and he saw, more clearly than ever, the incredulity in them mixed with ... fear?

He was scaring her.

Draco instantly knew that he should let go of her and get the hell away. He stared at her, not knowing what to think. He had begun this game as a way of venting his frustration, to rile up someone else like he had always done when he was angry. But somehow, without thinking, through all the taunts and insults he had _somehow_ managed to turn the whole thing into something physical ... _sexual,_ even. He had taken it too far.

His eyes burned into Potter's as he grew extremely aware of how she was pressed flush against him; he could feel every inch, every curve and contour of her form through their clothes that had begun to feel stiflingly suffocative. She was so close, too close ... he would barely have to lean forward to cover her mouth in his, to slide his tongue between her parted lips and have a taste of her...

_Get away!_ A voice inside his head hissed at him vehemently, but Draco found himself unable to obey. His arm refused to come off her waist and her natural scent, teasing his senses with its alluring sweetness, only pulled his face closer to her own ... their lips brushed together again and Draco felt an overwhelming urge to just push her against the nearest wall and snog her senseless, just have his wicked way with her and make her scream his name...

'Malfoy...' The word was whispered, and before his brain could even process it, a pair of hands rested on his chest and he was abruptly pushed away, almost making him stumble.

Breathing raggedly, Draco raised his head. Potter stood stock straight, gaping at him. She still looked scared by what he had done – he himself could not explain why his actions had gone the way they had – but there was also an air of great confusion surrounding her. She stood where she was for another moment before she turned on her heel and almost ran up the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

Draco stood unmoving, staring after her. He felt baffled by what had happened – by what _he_ had done – and his bamboozled mind refused to provide the answers he so desperately needed. However, quite incongruously, only one thought occurred to him at that time:

That Hariah Potter had not denied that she had enjoyed their accidental kiss in the library.

* * *

Blaise Zabini watched his partner with shrewd eyes as she gathered her half of the ingredients together and deposited them on a nearby table before approaching the boiling cauldron they were sharing. It had been a few weeks since the beginning of the term and the seventh year Potions class had finally gotten started on their Verita project a couple of weeks ago. Professor Slughorn had divided his paired pupils into the small dungeon chambers surrounding the Potions' classroom so that all his students would have enough space to brew their concoctions. Most of them had ended up with four students to a single room, but by some lucky chance, Blaise and Harry had got the last room to themselves.

He considered it _lucky_ because there were a few things that he wanted to discuss with his partner – alone.

_Honestly, it had been too easy_, he mused as he carefully stirred the bubbling mixture in the cauldron while Harry added powdered unicorn horn into it with a caution that suggested that the whole thing would blow up in her face if she made the slightest mistake (which it most probably would).

_I should have realised it from the start,_ he thought, shooting the girl a quick glance before returning his attention to his task.

After Rita Skeeter's unwelcome visit to Draco, Blaise had gotten around to thinking a great deal about his friend's engagement over the past several days. It had not taken long at all before he had arrived at his conclusion, and to be honest, he did not particularly feel very proud of himself for figuring it out. After all, what with all the clues that Draco had unwittingly laid bare coupled with the tell-tale hints Blaise himself had picked up, the answer had been crystal clear.

A girl that attended Hogwarts and knew Draco Malfoy personally, a girl who apparently did not swoon at the thought of "one true love" and had been – according to Draco (and Rita Skeeter) – deliberately avoiding a confrontation with said Malfoy heir, a girl that was being "protected" by Ronald Weasley of all people ... the answer had been right in front of their noses the whole time!

Taking the protected-by-Ron-Weasley clue alone had been enough for Blaise. There were only three girls in Hogwarts to whom Weasley could be so attached as to try and "protect" them from one of his arch-enemies: his best friends, Hariah Potter and Hermione Granger, and his younger sister, Ginny Weasley. All three of them knew Draco and none of them particularly liked the Slytherin so Blaise could imagine them staying as far away as possible under the current circumstances. All that had been left was to find out exactly which one of them had gotten the ring.

Blaise had not even spent more than three seconds contemplating this dilemma. His thoughts had immediately leapt to the black glove that had never come off of Hariah Potter's left hand in public this school term, and her extreme reluctance to divulge anything about it when he had questioned her earlier. This train of thought had brought up the memory of her fiddling with "something" on her gloved finger during that memorable Charms class and, of course, his logic had immediately told him that it had been the Malfoy ring.

Harry Potter was _The One_, to put it shortly (and dramatically).

His belief had been further strengthened when he had taken it upon himself to ensure that Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley were not possible candidates for being Draco's fiancée. Blaise had taken casual situations – such as passing each other in the corridors or during classes they shared – as opportunities to peek at their hands: neither of the two girls had the ring nor were either of them wearing anything on their hands and/or fingers that could conceal any such rings.

Thus, the only possible one left was his Potion's partner. Blaise raised his eyes again and shot her a long glance while she carefully cut up some dandelion roots for the Verita Potion. _It is so obvious_, he thought, shaking his head slightly. _Any fool could figure it out_.

However, there was one fool that still could not see what was so glaringly evident: Draco.

How was it possible that his friend had not managed to join the dots yet? The question still befuddled Blaise no end. All the clues were currently shoved in Draco's face, but he still had yet to string them together. It had been days since Blaise had deduced that Harry Potter was the girl his friend was searching for, but Draco? He was still no closer to the truth than he had been when he had first wished upon those rings! It was positively maddening how exceedingly _blind_ the Malfoy heir was being. Draco was not by any means unintelligent; that Blaise knew extremely well, but he was being nothing short of stupid now. Blaise had already begun to count down to the moment when he would smash his friend's dumb head through the nearest window when the last of his patience evaporated.

_Why can't he see what is right under his nose?_ He wondered, frustrated. _Surely, he must at least suspect that...!_ Blaise brought his internal rant to a halt as another thought occurred to him.

Something, he wasn't sure what exactly, but _something_ was preventing Draco from realising the truth about Harry Potter. That was the only explanation Blaise could think of. Draco was a sharp man; he should have grasped the situation a long time ago, but he had not because some unexplained issue was making him look the other way...

_Can it be ... denial, perhaps?_ Blaise frowned, deep in thought. He did not know all the details concerning Draco Malfoy and Hariah Potter, so he could not know for sure. He did not exactly want to ask Draco, either. After all, he had befriended the blond Slytherin only a few months ago and, though Draco was warmer and more open around him than in general, Blaise knew that he had not revealed his darkest deepest secrets yet; their close friendship had not yet evolved so much as to involve that sort of intimacy. But Blaise did know for certain that Draco harboured more emotions and thoughts concerning the Chosen One than merely the "she-refused-my-hand-and-humiliated-me-so-I-loathe-her" feelings he had already divulged. There was something more, and perhaps that was what was making Draco so blind.

Blaise could easily believe that, too. After all, even _he_ had not imagined that Hariah Potter could have possibly been chosen by the ring. That was probably why he had not suspected her from the very beginning even when all the subtle hints had been dropped. The same thing – perhaps on a different and larger scale – could be happening to Draco.

For a moment, he felt extremely satisfied, glad that things were finally making some sense, but then another recollection struck him, crumpling his contentment: Draco had been acting extremely odd over the past few weeks and his behaviour was bugging Blaise more and more every passing day.

Ever since the War and the prison trials had ended, Draco had distanced himself from the rest of the world; he had become cold and indifferent, and honestly, Blaise could not blame him. The ordeals that his friend had gone through would have done the same to anyone. However, Draco had been acting even more aloof in public than before, even to Blaise to whom he was fairly amicable. Most of the time, it seemed like he was lost in another world and there was a constant aura of confusion, frustration and apprehension surrounding him. Something was obviously bothering the blond, but he refused to confide in Blaise, not even when the brunet had finally given in and asked outright.

Draco had only recovered from this state just once – and that, too, only temporarily – when Rita Skeeter had published her article that had gone on to become outrageously popular. It had started off innocently enough with Skeeter dutifully reporting Draco's answers word for word, but before the end, she had cunningly dropped in the paragraph that had nearly sent the Malfoy over the edge; the one heavily hinting that he was still unaware of his fiancée's identity, and that there were doubts now about the ring's reliability as well as the million-galleon question: if a girl had been chosen, who was she and why was she avoiding the much desired Malfoy heir?

Draco had not taken it well. Mainly because the result of the article had been dozens of his fan girls coming up to him to demand if it really was true and, since his fiancée was avoiding him, would he please consider one of _them_ as a potential future Mrs Malfoy? Oh no, he had not taken it well at all. Blaise had even thought he would sue Rita Skeeter for "making baseless assumptions", but within a few days, Draco had shockingly let the whole thing go. He had become broody again, and it was obvious that those _other thoughts_ had taken over his mind once more, brushing aside Skeeter's article.

Defeated and worried, Blaise had taken to observing his friend closely, and he had slowly come to notice that Draco's frustrated side came up more frequently when Hariah Potter was around. Her mere presence would make him freeze up and, more often than not, his gaze would remain locked on her and his eyes would cloud over with the now familiar uncertainty, confusion and a deep frustration. Seeing this, it had made Blaise wonder if it was something about her that was constantly occupying Draco's thoughts.

Then he had begun to notice that even Harry acted oddly in Draco's presence. That same confusion and doubt were reflected in her eyes whenever she saw him, and she was also displaying signs of self-consciousness. Out of the corner of his eyes, Blaise had frequently observed a light blush that would dust her countenance at the sight of Draco, and she was always quick to break eye contact with the blond whenever she caught him staring at her – and that was extremely out of character since she had never been one to back down from a challenge by Draco Malfoy, even immature ones such as staring contests.

Obviously, something had happened between the both of them, and the fact that Draco was keeping him in the dark was getting on Blaise' last nerve. A series of complicated events were occurring between those two, intertwining their distinctly separate lives with one another, and Blaise was quickly getting tired of all the drama. Though he was still uninformed of all the facts, he wanted to end it all so that everyone could walk away with their respective happy endings. And to achieve that, he had to take the first step:

See with his own eyes that it really was the Malfoy engagement ring beneath Harry Potter's glove before he informed Draco of the fact. Though he was certain that she was _The One_, he still needed proof for himself; and Blaise Zabini – who had the Slytherin gift of discreetly manipulating casual conversations to get the answers that he wanted – was going to get it, one way or the other.

'Careful, Harry,' he murmured demurely, watching as his partner chopped up the roots zealously. 'They have to be exactly the same length, remember. Else the potion could have unwanted side effects.'

'I know!' Harry snapped. The stress of getting even the smallest detail right was making her irritable, and the cold dampness of the dungeon room was not helping in the least. 'I'm trying my best, Blaise.' She cut up the remaining pieces with more calm and grudgingly checked their lengths before turning to glower at the cauldron. 'They're done. Now what?'

He smiled gently at her. 'We have to add the root pieces one by one, keeping an equal time interval between each addition. Also, we have to gradually increase the size of the fire while we add the roots ...' He hesitated, recalling her rather haphazard ways when dealing with delicate ingredients. 'Why don't you do the stirring while I add them?' He offered generously. "_That'll be easier for you and there'd be less danger of possible explosions"_ was left unsaid.

Looking extremely relieved, Harry stepped forward and took over the stirring. Blaise gathered up the roots and prepared to drop them into the concoction. 'Harry,' he said seriously, 'while I add these, slowly make the fire bigger, OK? More heat is needed for about twenty minutes after the dandelion roots are added.'

'Um,' Harry bit her lip, looking unsure of herself, but then she awkwardly got out her wand with her left hand at aimed it at the bottom of the cauldron while continuing to stir with her right.

Blaise nodded. 'Slowly now.' With that, he began to drop the cut-up roots one after the other, timing each drop by mentally murmuring _one hippogriff, two hippogriff, three..._ Harry watched warily as the potion's colour faded from a light blue to colourless while she magically fed the fire with her wand. Blaise, who was still counting the seconds as he added the roots, chanced a quick glance downwards and nodded his head sharply at Harry, indicating that the fire was not big enough. Nervously, Harry murmured _'Incendio'_ a little more forcefully, encouraging the flames.

Dropping the last piece into the potion, Blaise straightened up, pleased that that part of the procedure had gone well. But then his eyes fell on the fire and he realised with a start that it was still dangerously small. Harry's anxiety of doing something wrong had made her put very little magic behind her incantations, and the flames could not supply the required amount of heat at their current level. _That's not good!_ He thought, unnerved. According to their textbooks, Verita was extremely sensitive to even the slightest changes.

Without stopping to think rationally, Blaise cried out, 'Harry! The fire! Make it bigger, _hurry_! Before it goes wrong!'

His horror at the situation immediately sent the already edgy girl into a panic. Frantically, she poked her wand straight into the flames, simultaneously shouting '_Incendio_!' at the top of her voice.

_Shit_, was the only coherent thought that passed through Blaise' mind before the chaos began. The sudden surge of her magic had the fire immediately flaring out in a deadly wave and its sheer size cocooned the entire cauldron as the flames reached higher and higher. With a yell, Harry had leapt back from the cauldron, nearly knocking over a table while Blaise, getting his head back together, leapt forward quickly. With only the thought of saving the potion that they had worked so hard to get right, he whipped out his wand and struggled to diminish the inferno, shouting the spells so loudly that they made no sense even to his own ears.

It took several seconds before the blaze weakened enough for him to control it. Breathing hard, he made the flames up to the right size before looking around to check on Harry. The blood drained from his face when his eyes focussed on the scene before him: Harry's left arm was aflame up to the elbow. She had dropped her wand and was currently trying to beat out the flames, her entire face twisted in pain and fear.

'Blaise, help!' she half-shouted.

He did not hesitate for even a second. '_Aguamenti!_' he yelled, sending a huge jet of water directly at her. The flames were doused at once and Harry fell back against a table, panting.

'Merlin! Are you alright?' Blaise exclaimed, running to her side. Without answering, she ripped off her ruined glove and tenderly cradled her arm, suppressing pained moans as her eyes roved over the burnt skin. Blaise winced at the sight of her raw blisters; those must be excruciating.

'We need to get you to the Hospital Wing,' he said anxiously, taking her hand very gently in his and pouring more water with his wand to soothe the burns. Biting her lip, Harry nodded weakly. He could feel her shivering and realised that he had soaked not only her arm with his earlier _Aguamenti_, but her entire body as well. He poured some more water onto her injuries just in case and was about to shout for Slughorn when, inevitably, his eyes fell on the glittering engagement band on her reddened finger. Blaise stared at the Malfoy ring, deadpanned. He was not surprised; he had been expecting it after all, but still, actually seeing it made the whole situation so much more real than merely figuring it out in his brain.

_She truly is the one_.

Harry realised what he was looking at only a moment later. Even through all the pain she was experiencing, her shock and nervousness-bordering-on-fear shone through. Speechless and lost, she stared at him who returned her gaze neutrally, his eyes betraying nothing.

'Blaise –' she began, but next second, the door of the room was practically blasted open and Professor Slughorn came barrelling inside, wheezing.

'What is it?' He looked around wildly. 'I could hear shouting from all the way across the dungeons!'

'It's alright, Professor,' Blaise answered mechanically. 'The fire got out of hand, but it's under control now. However, I think Harry needs to see Madam Pomfrey. She got burnt.'

'Merlin's beard! That is –!' Slughorn's eyes widened when he saw Harry's arm. He strode forward quickly and began to lead her outside. Wordlessly, Blaise picked up Harry's slightly scorched wand and handed it to her as she passed him.

'To the Hospital Wing at once, my dear. Those are some serious burns, you must be careful! You should know –'

Ignoring her teacher, Harry looked over her shoulder at the Slytherin. 'Blaise,' she cried out, her voice laced with desperation as Slughorn, looking slightly puzzled at her outburst, gently nudged her out of the room. 'Don't tell him! Don't – I ... I'm not ready for this, Blaise. Please! Don't tell him!'

He said nothing as he watched her being led away.

* * *

'Oh my God, Harry! Are you alright?'

Hermione and Ron came bursting into the Hospital Wing, causing Madam Pomfrey to look up disapprovingly at them from where she was bandaging Harry's arm. Ignoring her, both of them ran to their friend's side.

'Is it true that you were on _fire_ –?!'

'We came as soon as Potions ended –!'

'I'm _fine_,' Harry spoke over them, smiling reassuringly. 'It's just my arm.' She watched as Madam Pomfrey rubbed a bit more of the healing orange-coloured paste onto her wrist and fingers before wrapping the gauze around them. She tensed as the nurse's fingers brushed against the exposed ring, but the woman was too absorbed by what she was doing to take much notice of it.

'There,' she said finally, gathering up her materials. 'Now lie still and rest for a few minutes before leaving – _rest_!' She pushed Harry firmly down onto the bed when the girl made to get off. 'And then you can return to you classes.'

Muttering something that suspiciously sounded like _'– always some accident or the other –'_ and _'– only person to get sent here so much –'_, Madam Pomfrey left for her small office, leaving Harry alone with her friends.

'How did it happen?' Ron and Hermione asked at once.

'I was in charge of the fire. I made one small mistake. And then I lost my head ... It was _Potions._'

Ron snorted in amusement, understanding her cryptic answer immediately. Even Hermione had to fight down a chuckle.

'Well, at least it wasn't anything too bad,' she murmured, gently taking Harry's arm in her hands and caressing it over the bandages.

The smile on Harry's face vanished and her eyes darkened. 'Yes, it was,' she muttered, averting her eyes.

'What'd you mean?' Ron frowned.

'Harry?' Hermione pressed when she did not answer, concerned at the abrupt change in her mood.

She sighed. 'Blaise Zabini ... he knows.'

'What –?'

'He saw the ring.'

Harry met the stunned eyes of her best friends dejectedly. Both of them stared at her, neither knowing how to respond to her blunt announcement.

'So ...' Ron began uncertainly after a few seconds of silence, 'it's over now?'

'I don't know,' Harry shook her head, feeling tired and frazzled. She had pleaded with Blaise not to tell Malfoy, but towards whom did the Slytherin have a greater sense of duty – Hariah Potter, his Potions partner, or Draco Malfoy, his closest friend? It was not hard to guess.

She looked up, her eyes burning with an odd combination of worry and determination. 'I have to talk to him.'

* * *

Harry did not get a chance to corner Blaise Zabini at all until the next day during lunch hour. By then, her fear that he must have already confided in Malfoy had nearly driven the last of her sanity right out of her mind and she was constantly on edge, always expecting Malfoy to come up behind her with his accusations. Alright, so maybe the sanity part was a bit of an exaggeration, but the thought of an unpredicted confrontation with Malfoy _was _making her jittery.

Thus, it was with both relief and dread that she caught sight of Blaise and Malfoy leaving the Great Hall just as she and her friends were about to enter. She hesitated momentarily, pondering the wisdom of approaching Blaise with the blond around, but she had no other classes with him until Wednesday and she seriously needed to talk to him; she had to know if her secret was out or if he had respected her wishes – _now_. Dredging up whatever Gryffindor courage that she had, she abruptly stepped away from her surprised friends and darted up to Blaise. Without giving either of the Slytherins any time to react, she grabbed Blaise by the hand and forcibly dragged him away, trying to ignore the feel of Draco Malfoy's eyes locked on her.

'Harry, what are you doing?' Blaise asked, sounding as surprised as Ron and Hermione had looked. Ignoring his question, she pushed him into one of the empty chambers off the Entrance Hall and locked the door, casting a _Muffliato_ spell for extra precaution.

'Did you tell him?' she demanded, proud that her voice was steady and did not tremble under the weight of her inward anxiety.

Comprehension dawned on Blaise at once and his eyes became impassive and unreadable.

'Did you tell Malfoy about the ring?' she repeated more forcefully when he did not reply.

'Harry –'

'Yes or no, Blaise! I need to know.'

Blaise closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before fixing Harry with an intense look. She met his stare dead on, the hard expression on her face masking the consternation within.

Keeping his voice low and level, Blaise answered her question smoothly, 'No.'

Harry blinked. Relief was the first emotion that flooded her heart, but her astonishment was quick to follow. She had been so sure, so damn certain that Blaise would have revealed everything to Malfoy the first chance he got. Though she had fervently hoped otherwise, she had not been optimistic that he would protect her little skeleton in the cupboard; since Blaise and Malfoy appeared to be such close friends...

As if he knew what she was thinking, Blaise spoke up firmly, 'No, I haven't told him _yet_, Harry, but Draco is a dear friend to me and I have no intentions of keeping him in the dark about this. I promised that I would help him find the girl and now that I have, I'm fully obligated to tell him. The reason I have not done so yet is because I want _you_ to be the one to tell him.'

'What ...?' Harry breathed, taking an automatic step away from Blaise.

'Yes,' he continued gravely. 'You got the ring, you're his fiancée, and so _you_ should inform him about it –'

'No, Blaise,' Harry shook her head. 'I – I can't. I'm not ... I just can't confront him about this.'

'Why not?' He asked, frowning.

'I ...' Her voice trailed off. Running her fingers through her hair, Harry began to pace back and forth in front of the Slytherin, confused and aggravated at herself. _That's just the question, isn't it?_ She thought irritably. _Why?_ Why was she avoiding Malfoy? It was not that she was scared of him; and that they had been eternal rivals which made the "engaged" situation simply embarrassing for her was not a really good argument either. But still, there was some instinct that was telling her to run away. It was right there at the very back of her mind; she could not grasp the elusive answer, but she knew that it was not mere cowardice that was making her fight tooth and nail against this engagement.

Harry exhaled loudly through her mouth, baffled and discouraged. Nothing made sense at this point. The whole engagement affair had turned into a cat-and-mouse game and she had no idea why she was still playing it instead of just facing the problem straight on. And Malfoy? She winced as she felt colour rising in her cheeks. It would have been so much easier to deal with her little "ring problem" if she could just simply hate or ignore him, but of course the git had to turn everything into an even more complicated mess, like he had done _that night_...

She groaned out loud at the recollection, ignoring Blaise who was watching her pacing-antics cynically. Honestly, one touch from Draco Malfoy and every single thing she had believed to be true seemed to have flown out of the window. It was bad enough that the memory of their accidental kiss in the library still lingered, but after _that night_, she had even begun to question whether she actually felt _attracted_ to Draco Malfoy! Several weeks ago, Harry would have laughed at the notion, but now, she found it harder and harder to just lightly brush it aside...

_He's never touched me like that before_, she thought, discomfited. They had insulted, taunted and verbally fought each other plenty of times in the past, but intimate physical contact had never been involved. That night was the first time Draco Malfoy had deliberately touched her in such a sensual manner and Harry did not think that getting _turned on_ was how she should have reacted to her rival's advances ... because that was exactly how she had felt at the time: aroused – by Draco Malfoy no less! Yes, she had been scared by what he had done, too, but there was no doubt that he had evoked a lustful yearning within her. The thought was still terrifying...

So there it was. Her rival had pretty much sexually harassed her, she had as good as enjoyed the harassment, after which he had taken to staring at her all the time, not to mention that she was secretly engaged to said rival who was still searching for his fiancée that was altogether avoiding him like the plague ... _What a mess! Even the forbidden realms of Seamus' twisted mind can't be as screwed up as this._ And she still could not explain why she was running away from everything...

'Ahem.'

Harry jumped, finally remembering that Blaise was still with her and was waiting for an answer. With a sigh, she turned to face him. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

'I don't know, Blaise,' she answered slowly. 'I can't explain why I don't want to face Malfoy right now because even I myself can't figure it out, but ...' she looked pleadingly at him, 'please, Blaise, don't make me do this. I'm just not ready for it.'

'You've had nearly four months by now to get _ready_,' he shot at her.

Stung, Harry opened her mouth to retort that she had not known the truth until about three weeks ago, but Blaise cut her off,

'Look, Harry, you've had that ring for a long time. You cannot remove it on your own or by any magical means; it's just impossible. Only Draco can do it. Besides, you've already had enough time to think about all this, and as for Draco, he's been waiting for his fiancée for a hell of a long time, and now that I know it's you, I'm begging you to tell him!' He looked pleadingly at Harry. 'Please, Harry, you need to let him know. Not knowing who the girl is – it's making Draco suffer a lot. You don't know what he's going through and it's not my place to try and explain what he's feeling or his insecurities, but trust me when I say that it is vital that you reveal yourself to him!'

Harry backed away, shaking her head helplessly as she tried to stomach his words. 'Blaise, please, don't ... I ... I dunno if ...'

His eyes hardened considerably. 'I do not want to see my friend suffer needlessly anymore! Draco has a right to know of this, but ... I shall wait and see if you inform him first ... I cannot force you to do anything, but if _you_ do not tell him very soon, Hariah, then _I_ will.' He fixed her with an unwavering, but not unkind, look before he left the chamber, leaving her alone.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty and shock. The terms that Blaise had laid in front of her were not ones that she could easily accept, but her agitated mind could register one thing very clearly: _Hariah_. For the first time since she had permitted him to call her Harry, Blaise had used her given name. He had been completely serious then; he would tell Malfoy ... if she did not do it herself.

* * *

Draco was silent as he leisurely strolled along the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. It was not yet time for curfew, but it was nearing and the corridors were devoid of any life. Only a few torches were lit and the light they cast was weak and eclipsed by the silver swathes of moonlight that filtered through the large windows. He paused by one and leaned against the sill, enjoying the cool night air that caressed his face.

It was a habit he had taken up lately, this wandering around the castle at night before going to bed. He found that it helped to clear his mind, washing away all the thoughts and worries that haunted his every waking thought. Tonight, however, emptying his mind proved to be more difficult. The short conversation he had had with Blaise earlier was hard to push away.

'_What did Potter want just now?'_

'_... Nothing.'_

'_Really? Hn, she seemed a bit too eager to talk to you for it to have been just _nothing_.'_

'_Let it go, Drake. It was not important. Some drivel about our Potions' project...'_

Draco was not fooled, though. He had caught onto Blaise' uneasiness and his hurry to change the subject; he was hiding something.

Before he could even begin to try and solve the mystery, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Draco whirled around at once, sensing the presence of another behind him. 'Who's there?' he barked, pulling out his wand.

There was a slight movement in the shadows and the person slowly, almost hesitantly, stepped forward into the moonlight. Draco blinked in surprise when he saw who it was.

'What are you doing here?' he asked quietly, lowering his wand.

'There's – there's something I have to tell you ... It's about your engagement.'

* * *

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN! Who could it be? Blaise? Harry? Hermione or Ginny? Or the "person in the shadows" (refer to end of Chapter 10)? Only time will tell! XD**

**Which reminds me: LAST CHANCE TO VOTE, PEOPLE! I'll be closing the poll on my profile before uploading the next chapter, so drop in a vote now if you haven't yet! :)**

**PS: Don't you just _love_ cliffhangers? XD ::gets shot::**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Tipped On It's Axis_**


	13. Tipped On It's Axis

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: Hey y'all! Yeah, sorry for leaving you guys hanging, but if you haven't guessed by now, then let me make it very clear: I'm the sort of author who can never resist a cliffhanger. So ... yeah, you can expect a lot of those from me ;D**

**Anyway, ladies and gentleman, here in unlucky thirteen - who believes that, anyway? - I'm happy to _cough_finally_cough_ present: THE BIG REVEAL, which was a total b!tch to write, by the way. (Also includes a whole lot of explanations and emotional development - which were even bigger b!tches to write.) Hope you enjoy! XD**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TIPPED ON ITS AXIS**

'What are you doing here?'

'There's – there's something I have to tell you ... It's about your engagement.'

She could barely believe that she was actually standing here, in front of Draco Malfoy, ready to reveal a secret she had promised to keep forever. A part of her – and she was sure it was the major one – wanted nothing more than to turn and run, but she had come this far. Fleeing was not an option anymore. Determined not to show any weaknesses, she held her head high and met his piercing gaze steadily, clenching her hands into fists.

Malfoy looked calmly back at her, but through the caution in his eyes, she easily caught a glimpse of the surprise and interest that her words had sparked. He said nothing for a long moment, watching her shrewdly as if he suspected her of falsehood, but eventually he asked in a guarded voice, 'And what do _you_ have to say about my engagement?'

She hesitated for a few seconds, wondering one last time if this was what she should be doing. _Isn't this too drastic? Maybe I should've waited and thought more about this..._ But the entire afternoon and evening had been spent contemplating that dilemma, and she had thought about all the minor details and covered nearly every loophole and … damn, she was rambling in her own mind now.

_I'm such an idiot! This has gone on for too long now. I should've done this much sooner. Just stop thinking and get it over with. _

Only with that thought to encourage her, Hariah Potter took one more step towards the Slytherin. 'Malfoy, I'm ... I'm you fiancée.'

* * *

'Where's Harry?' Hermione asked Ron as she approached the table where he and Ginny were playing Exploding Snap in the Gryffindor common room.

'She took off directly after dinner,' the red-head answered vaguely, dealing the cards. 'I think she said something about wanting to go to the library again. But she said she'd rather go alone this time.'

'The library?' Hermione frowned as she sat down in a nearby armchair and dropped her heavy bag onto the floor. 'But I just came back from the library. I didn't see Harry there.'

'Maybe she left early,' responded Ron with a careless shrug, a little too preoccupied by the cards that were likely to blow up any second. Barely a moment after he had spoken, a mini-explosion took place on the table, sending the flaming cards whizzing in all directions. One hit Ron smack in the middle of his forehead while Ginny lost a few strands of her hair thanks to another minute missile.

'Ow! Bugger blew a hole through my _head_ –!'

'My _hair_! That little piece of scum –!'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'All right, all right! Spare the poor cards, will you?' she said sarcastically. 'Ron, are you quite sure you don't know where Harry went?'

'I already told you; Harry _said_ she'd be at the library, but if she's not there...'

'Actually, Hermione,' Ginny spoke over her brother, 'she looked kind of preoccupied tonight, even during dinner. I swear she didn't hear a word I said about what some of the students were saying about Defence Against the Dark Arts being cancelled.' She shrugged nonchalantly.

'So, maybe Harry's just gone off somewhere to think about whatever it is that's on her mind or something?' Ron suggested, rubbing his singed forehead.

Hermione leaned back in her armchair, looking thoughtful and anxious. 'Maybe you're right. I mean, Harry looked so upset when she told us about Zabini's ultimatum. That must be giving her quite a headache.'

'What?' Ginny looked up, confused.

Sighing, the bushy-haired girl briefly recounted what Harry had miserably relayed to them about Blaise Zabini and the conditions he had presented her with. 'She's been worried about it ever since lunch today. Harry still doesn't want to tell Malfoy, but Zabini threatened to tell Malfoy himself if _she_ doesn't do it – and soon.'

'That's kind of harsh.'

'Zabini's a git,' added Ron promptly, scowling at the table.

Ignoring her brother, the youngest Weasley turned to Hermione. 'Actually I can see the logic behind his argument, though. But I still can't understand Harry and her ...' she trailed off, frowning. 'Hermione, do you have any idea why she is acting like this?'

'Like what?' Hermione looked surprised.

'Like so ... so _immature_? I mean, I can understand why Harry doesn't like the idea of being married to Malfoy; their rivalry, bitter history, arch-enemies for seven years and all that. Plus, it was kind of fun seeing Harry all flustered and trying to find an escape,' Ginny added with an amused smile. 'But still, why is she avoiding the problem? It's not helping at all! You already said that you found no way to remove the ring, I told her that Malfoy is the only one who can take it off according to the _Prophet_, and we all know that he hates her as much as she hates him. If she were to just tell Malfoy the truth, then he'll probably just call off the whole thing and go find another girl. So, why is Harry still refusing to tell him? It's just crazy!' She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. 'I hate to say this about her, but I think she's being a bit of a coward...'

Hermione said nothing when Ginny finished her little speech, but chewed on her bottom lip pensively. Ron was staring at his little sister, slightly open-mouthed. He leaned forward as if to argue with her, but his sibling's logic made too much sense and he gave up, sighing.

'Hermione?' Ginny prompted when the older didn't answer.

A small frown crossed Hermione's features as she finally replied, 'I can see what you mean, Ginny, but I can't agree with you there. I just can't believe that Harry is running away simply because of that; its' not like her. There must be something else...'

'Such as?' It was Ron who spoke this time. He looked at Hermione with genuine curiosity.

'Yes, go on, Mione,' added his sister. 'After all, you seem to know Harry a lot better than she knows herself.'

'Hmm ... Give me a couple of minutes on this one...'

Leaving Hermione to her thoughts, the two Weasleys turned away. Ron gathered his scattered cards again while Ginny tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. He did not deal them, however. Both of them were too engrossed in trying to figure out the inner-workings of Harry Potter's impossible mind, but predictably, it was still Hermione who came out with an answer first.

Hours seemed to have passed before she finally cleared her throat to get their attention. The two Weasleys turned towards Hermione in unison.

'I could only come up with one likely explanation,' she began seriously. 'I think Harry's acting like this because ... maybe she feels that this whole matter was _forced_ upon her.'

Neither Ron nor Ginny said anything for a small while as both of them eyed the other girl with identical cynical expressions on their faces. At length, Ron raised his eyebrows and remarked dryly, 'I might be overlooking something, but ... isn't that true? Wasn't the engagement actually _forced _on Harry? She got that bloody ring out of nowhere without ever having had asked for it!'

'Yes, that's true,' Hermione nodded her head vigorously, 'but that's not exactly what I meant. I was saying that Harry probably thinks that the ring is forcing her to _marry_ Malfoy! She feels that it is an obligation and ... um, how do I explain it?' She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts.

'Look, all these years, Harry had a really hard time, didn't she? As a child, she was practically maltreated by her aunt and uncle and never got much independence. And then, after she came to Hogwarts, she was suddenly the Girl-Who-Lived and everyone expected her to finish off Voldemort almost as if it was her duty. There was a _prophecy_, for Merlin's sake!

'So, can't you see how Harry must be feeling? All her life, she was forced to do something or the other because others expected it of her. She never asked to be a heroine, but nearly the whole Wizarding World depended on Harry to save them from Voldemort. It was unfair to her, but she never really had a choice in those matters.

'But when Voldemort died, Harry probably felt that she was finally free to follow her own path. But then right afterwards, out of nowhere like you said, Ron, she got that engagement ring. And now, I'm guessing that Harry feels that who she should marry is being decided for her; that, once more, her free will is being taken away. She thinks that this engagement will force her into marriage, so ... I suppose that's why Harry's fighting so hard against it. In fact, I don't think Harry herself knows exactly why she's avoiding the issue; it's probably more like a subconscious reaction.'

Finishing her explanation, Hermione looked round expectantly at her small audience. The Weasley siblings stared at her for a minute before Ron mock-clapped and Ginny exclaimed in an overly-exaggerated shriek, 'Oh my, Hermione, you're _so_ smart!'

Ron chuckled. 'Yeah, Hermione, you really do know Harry – and us, too, probably – more than anyone else, don't you? I mean, that was one hell of an explanation!'

Hermione blushed prettily. 'I just care about all of you, that's all.'

'But I think you might be right,' Ginny remarked. 'That would explain Harry's stupidity just so much! Though I still can't understand this: a subconscious reaction or not, shouldn't she realise by now that no one can actually make her marry someone she doesn't want to? Not only is that utterly unethical, but from what I know, enchanted engagement rings are not magical binding contracts. They just find the girl. It's up to the ring owners and their betrotheds to decide on actual marriage or not!'

'I know, Ginny, I know. The only reason why I helped Harry conceal the ring and try to find ways to remove it is because I knew how much Harry didn't want Malfoy to know at first. I did hope that she would come to her senses soon though, but ...'

'Yeah,' Ginny wrinkled her nose. 'She's still fighting it.'

'Well,' Hermione sighed tiredly, 'if Harry really is out _thinking_ tonight as you said, let's just hope that some sense would be knocked into her brains while she's at it.'

'_That_ would be the day,' the red-haired girl snorted.

Even Ron, who still had not changed his mind about Malfoy and his engagement, had to agree with that particular sentiment.

* * *

'Malfoy, I'm ... I'm your fiancée.'

The silence that followed her soft declaration was profound and disturbingly oppressive. Harry had to remind herself to breathe through her nose as she gazed apprehensively at Malfoy, waiting for the explosion she had mentally prepared for. _Get ready, here it comes..._

It never came.

He was just ... staring at her. For a moment, Harry thought he had not understood what she had said, but then she saw the utter shock that had spread across his face. His eyes were wide as he gaped at her in disbelief, shaking his head ever so slightly. Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words seemed to occur to him and he shut it again.

Harry fidgeted nervously under his stare, once more resisting the urge to flee. The silence was becoming unbearable. _Now would be a really good time for him to say something..._

Slowly, almost painfully, Malfoy tore his gaze away from hers and let his eyes rove down her arm towards her bandaged hand. She realised what he was searching for at once. _He doesn't believe me_, she thought, taking a deep breath to keep her cool.

'You want proof, don't you,' she stated quietly. 'Here it is.'

Ignoring the tiny voice that pointed out that she was giving up her last chance of backing out, Harry tentatively began to unravel the gauze covering her half-healed fingers. Malfoy's eyes followed her every movement and they widened even more when she finally held out her exposed hand. The white-gold ring sparkled beautifully in the moonlight.

_There. I've done it._ She could only hope that she had done the right thing.

Biting her lip, Harry waited for Malfoy to speak, but he did not say a word. His eyes never left the engagement band on her finger.

Finally deciding to take the initiative, Harry cleared her throat uncomfortably and began, 'Er, yeah ... so, as you can see, your ring came to me ... er, obviously and I ... um ...' Why was she getting all tongue-tied now? She had been mentally practising what she would say to him for hours! _Damn_. It did not help that Malfoy was looking directly at her again. The shock and incredulity (which made him look surprisingly human as opposed to an Ice Prince) were still present in his normally unreadable eyes, but his penetrating stare was cracking her confidence and coherency of speech.

Harry tried again, 'Yes, so I got your ring and I'm your fiancée a– ... ugh, damn it!' she groaned, realising that she was about to ramble again. To hell with her practised speech, it was getting her nowhere! Spontaneity worked best.

'Look, Malfoy, as – as _honoured_ I am that your ring-thing chose me' – _Pfft! Yeah, right!_ – 'we both know that I'm not the ... er, what was it – oh yeah, the perfect bride for you; or wife, whichever. I mean, you'd probably want a girl that's actually ... well, a _girl_. Am I right? Like someone who's beautiful and filthy rich and has high social status and acts actually feminine and elegant etc. I'm nothing like that! So, it's quite obvious that this ring made a mistake, right?

'Besides,' Harry continued, her voice rising spiritedly as her mind automatically supplied all the logical arguments, 'I don't like you, you've never liked me, and we're not compatible. We're not even friends or know each other well at all. So, the idea of us getting _married_ is ...' Harry snorted derisively to convey her feelings about the matter, reminding herself not to blow a raspberry at the last moment. _Don't go overboard..._

'Anyway,' Harry said gravely, looking very seriously at Malfoy as she prepared to bring her line of reasoning to an end, 'I know that, right now, you're probably feeling as disgusted by this whole thing as I am. After all, it's _me_, and it's not like you're ever going to marry me! So, why don't you just remove the ring now – seeing as you're the only one who can do it, apparently – and we'll just keep this between us and forget it ever happened? You can find another girl and I'll be free to go my own way. We both win.'

A proud smile curved Harry's lips up as she finally finished. Wow, who would have thought? It actually felt good to have revealed everything; and who ever knew that an improvised rant would make so much more sense than a rehearsed one? .

Satisfied, Harry looked at Malfoy expectantly and held out her hand, indicating him to remove the engagement band. She could barely stay still; she'd waited far too long for this moment, endlessly worrying about that accursed ring and what it signified. But now, she would be free again!

'Your ring, Malfoy,' Harry said pointedly when he made no move to touch it. 'Don't you want it back?'

Malfoy said nothing. He had never taken his gaze off her during her passionate speech and he continued to stare at her now. Whatever emotion his eyes had expressed earlier had vanished, and they were aloof and inscrutable again as he stood rooted to the spot. So still was he that he looked almost like a statue framed against the large window.

Harry began to frown as worry set in. Malfoy's unresponsiveness – both verbal and physical – was beginning to feel unnatural. Why, he should have immediately jumped on the opportunity to call off this engagement to his arch rival! By now, he should be threatening her with promises of death and dismemberment if she were to ever reveal this secret to another soul! Wasn't he as eager as she was to escape from this arrangement?

'Malfoy,' Harry tried again, speaking very clearly and slowly. 'Take your ring. Please.'

Silence.

_Oh, dear God, I've just shocked him to death, haven't I?! Maybe I gave him a heart attack! Or a stroke! Damn, I should've waited longer–!_

It took a moment for rationality to kick in. Calm down, Harry commanded herself mentally. Draco Malfoy had not dropped dead yet. He probably just could not digest the information so fast.

'Um, OK,' she said awkwardly, dropping her hand to her side. 'I know that this must be pretty hard for you to believe, but it's all true. I showed you the ring and you know I'm not lying, Malfoy. But I can understand. You probably need some time to ... er, think everything over; to let it all sink in.' Brushing away a few wayward strands of hair from her face, Harry began to step back. 'I think I should leave now. So,' she tried to shoot him a tentative smile, 'just let me know when you're ready to take your ring back and go find a girl that you actually _want_ to be with, yeah?'

With a short nod, Harry began to walk away hurriedly, trying to ignore his unwavering gaze. She turned her attention back to what she had just done. _I can't believe I actually told him!_ She was still unsatisfied though. From the moment she had first seen Malfoy wandering the corridors and decided to face him, Harry had hoped that she would be free of the engagement before the night was over, but it had not gone according to plan...

_Stop worrying_, she told herself. _He was just shocked. Give him a day or two. He'll come begging for his little ring_.

At least, that was what she was thinking until Malfoy's voice, so soft that she barely heard it, sounded from behind her, 'What makes you so sure I don't want to be with you?'

Harry froze mid-stride. 'What?' she breathed, turning around slowly. Had he said what she thought he had said?

Malfoy had not moved from his previous position. But the moment she faced him, he abruptly turned on his heel and hurried away in the opposite direction, leaving a bewildered and thoroughly shaken Harry Potter in his wake.

_Did he really say that ... or did I just imagine it?_

_

* * *

_

'Where were you?' were the first words out of Blaise' mouth when Draco stormed into the nearly empty Slytherin common room. 'Slughorn came here asking for you. Seemed quite urgent – hey, what's the matter?' He asked, finally noticing the look on the Malfoy's face.

Draco brushed past his friend without replying and entered the narrow, labyrinthine passage that led off into the boys' dormitories. He heaved a mental sigh of relief when he heard no footsteps behind him. Good, Blaise was not following. It was one of his best traits: he never pushed people and, at that moment, Draco wholeheartedly appreciated that particular quality of Blaise; the last thing he wanted was to talk. At least, not before he had gotten his head straight – and there was a lot of straightening to do.

When he reached the seventh year dormitory, the first thing Draco did was to throw himself onto his bed in a most un-Malfoy-like manner. He did not bother to lock the door. Now that Crabbe was gone and Goyle and Theodore Nott had dropped out because their fathers were proven Death Eaters, the room was only occupied by Draco and Blaise; and he was acquainted with his friend well enough to know that he would not be bothered for the next couple of hours.

At last, when the peace and solitude had calmed his mind and soul somewhat, Draco allowed the thoughts he had been repressing to rise again.

_Hariah Potter_ was the one the ring had chosen! She – _his rival_ – was his fiancée! That one revelation had tipped his entire world on its axis. Everything had turned upside-down.

Sighing, he dragged the back of his hand across his closed eyes. _I'm the biggest fool that was ever created._ And he could believe that, too. Now that he actually knew his betrothed's identity, he could see how obvious it had been. From the moment he had begun suspecting that Ron Weasley was "protecting" the girl from him, he should have realised that she must be Potter, Granger or Weasley's younger sibling. On top of that, if he considered who would avoid him for _four months_ because he had personally insulted them too much in the past, the choices narrowed down to just Potter and Granger.

What was more, the biggest clue of them all had been literally thrust into his face and he had missed it! He bit his lip as he remembered that night in the library. Ever since the accident, there had been a nagging voice at the back of his head, constantly whispering that he was forgetting something. Draco had successfully ignored it simply because he could remember nothing, but now he finally knew the hint he had missed: that strange warmth he had experienced when Potter had accidentally kissed him, the sensation the ring evoked when he had physical contact with his fiancée! Draco grimaced. His mother had explained that part very briefly, but neither of them had paid much attention because ... well, he could not touch every single girl that crossed his path to find his fiancée after all! But his subconscious had noticed it after the kiss, though his mind had not been able to grasp the truth of the matter. And that made him feel like an even bigger fool.

_I should have figured it out long before this! Why didn't I see it?_

It was a stupid, pointless question. Deep inside, he knew exactly why he had been so blind. He had always known ... he had just forced himself to try and forget it; tried so hard, in fact, that in the end, his conscious had completely ignored it.

Finally, after so many years in obstinate denial, Draco Malfoy allowed his bottled up memories and emotions to surface again.

* * *

Harry ignored the bowl of porridge in front of her as she incessantly stared at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall, searching for a head of white-blond hair. Beside her, she could sense the concerned looks her friends were shooting her, but thankfully, they had not badgered her – yet. It would not be long now, though. Her lack of appetite for breakfast was sure to set Hermione off soon.

_Where is he?_ She wondered, desperately. All morning, she had been waiting for Draco Malfoy to make an appearance so that she would at least have an idea as to how he would respond to her. Not knowing anything at all was sending her over the edge, especially considering his strange behaviour the night before. Something was off.

Once more, Harry wondered if she had made the correct choice by facing Malfoy. It had become an annoyingly recurring question, but she still doubted herself.

_I shouldn't, though. I thought of everything!_ And so she had. Ever since Blaise had laid his challenge at her feet, her entire mind had been devoted to the problem she had been facing. Harry had not even spared a speck of attention during her Charms class the day before (no wonder Flitwick had given her extra homework).

The only thing Harry had initially known for certain was that she did not want Blaise to be the one to reveal her secret; or anyone else for that matter. If Malfoy were to find out from a secondary source, that would only make things so much worse and Harry had enough to worry about on her plate, thanks very much. So, that decision only left ... well, herself. _She_ would have to tell him.

That was like Hermione going up to Lavender Brown and begging her to take Ron back as her permanent boyfriend. Not happening.

So, Harry had done what was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done in her life: figured out her own feelings and sentiments. She wondered dryly if anyone else had realised what a crisis that was. Nothing, not even predicting the moves and plans of Voldemort had been nearly as exhausting as solving the mysteries her own mind and heart presented. But it was amazing how terrifying threats could drive people to dig up what they had not known before, and Harry was quite proud of the progress she had made yesterday. Her earlier actions made more sense than they had before.

At least, now Harry had a more reasonable idea than the "we're-rivals-and-hate-each-other" argument to explain why she had been playing the cat-and-mouse game. She had had to dive into the deepest recesses of her mind to figure that one out (not the easiest feat, that one), but it had eventually become somewhat clear: she had run, because she had felt like _she _was the mouse – trapped by the cat. That was exactly what the engagement did. It made her feel cornered, confined and helpless, as if there was no escape from it, no choice but to walk the path paved before her, no other alternative ... so of course she had fled and battled against the circumstances as hard as she could.

It was a relief to finally know why she had been driven to run, but that still left the dilemma of _to tell or not to tell._ Harry did not know for how long she had roamed the corridors last night, contemplating that question. She had struggled to produce rational reasons as to why she should _not_ tell him, but apart from her own personal feelings of being _trapped_, the embarrassing nature of the whole situation and the thought of approaching him and going "Oh hi, I'm your fiancée and I really enjoy it when you sexually harass me even though I despise you", Harry had been unable to come up with a good defence. (The ones she had produced were not exactly strong, either. How depressing.)

However, she certainly had been able to think of several good reasons as to why she _should_ tell him (much to her chagrin), the first being that Malfoy was the only one who could take off that bloody engagement ring! The other incentives included the fact that not telling him had led her absolutely nowhere and fear of the huge confrontation she would have to face if Blaise told him first. Oh no, she certainly did not want _that_!

On a less self-centred note, there was also the part where Malfoy deserved to know about her. Harry had to admit that much at least. And when she coupled that with what Blaise had told her about Malfoy's suffering, she could not help but feel a little guilty. She had admittedly been selfish and concealed the truth for _months_, leaving her unwanted fiancée hanging and desperate. Also, if Ron had been right about Malfoy actually taking the trouble to look for her, then he truly must have been extremely serious about his engagement, and she could sort of imagine the hurt her selfishness was inflicting on him.

_But was it so selfish to run away from something I never wanted in the first place?_

In the end, only one thing had encouraged her to go for it: _So, why won't you tell him? Best case scenario is that he'll be as much repulsed by this engagement as you are and remove his ring from you at once, which, by the way, will save all of us a lot of time and trouble._ That was what Ginny had so bluntly told her weeks ago. Even back then, the weight of the pure truth behind those words had struck Harry hard, but only last night had they eventually motivated her to get her act together. It had been fortunate (or, perhaps, unfortunate?) that Harry had come across Malfoy just as she had come to her decision. The moment she had seen him by the window, she had made up her mind to tell him the truth.

The only problem was Malfoy's response. That had caught her completely off guard. She could have handled a yell of 'Why have you never told me?', or even, 'Why the hell would my ring choose a pathetic gypsy like you?!', but his _silence_ ... that had been unnerving, even though she could now accept how shocked he must have been. But what were even more nerve-wrecking were his parting words...

"_What makes you __so sure I don't want to be with you?"_

Harry rubbed her arms as the implication of that simple question set off goosebumps. _Maybe I imagined it, but if he really said so, surely he didn't mean ... he _cannot_ mean...!_ She did not know what to make of it, and her poor arguments were not strengthened at all when she remembered the seemingly deliberate sexual harassment he had subjected her to. _Shit_. Well, that just messed things up a bit more. Harry had been betting on his loathing for her when she had gone up to him. It had seemed like a sure thing that he would call off the engagement at once, but now ... she was beginning to doubt his hatred and had no idea what to expect from the Slytherin; that is, if he ever decided to join the world of the living.

'Ahem.'

Harry started at the unexpected sound and turned quickly. Ron and Hermione were both staring at her.

'You've been gawping at the Slytherin table for about twenty minutes straight, Harry,' the former began matter-of-factly though the concern in his eyes was poorly veiled. 'Without blinking, too, I might add. That can't be good for your eyes.'

Colour washed over her cheeks. 'Oh ... um...'

'Harry, did something happen with Malfoy?' Hermione asked shrewdly. 'You looked a bit off-colour when you came back to the common room last night.'

'Well, didn't I tell you then that I had just been taking a walk?' She had not been ready to confess what she had done.

'Yes,' Hermione answered, rolling her eyes. 'But, first of all, we know better than to believe what you say when you come back looking as if you'd met a Dementor, and secondly, we have yet to ask what _happened _during that walk.'

Inwardly cursing Hermione's infuriating intelligence, Harry turned away towards the Slytherins again. She sat up straight when she finally saw Draco Malfoy enter the Great Hall and make his way towards his housemates. Right before he sat down, their eyes met across the room and Harry swallowed slightly as she took in his appearance. Even from that distance, she could see the utter exhaustion on his face and the unruffled state of his hair, as if he had had a rough night.

Harry squirmed slightly as a cold chill fell over her. She could not be sure since he was quite far away, but the look he was giving her did not seem very welcoming. _Now what?_ She wondered uncertainly, averting her eyes. Malfoy did not look like he would come near her anytime soon, but there was no way _she_ would approach him again. It was Malfoy's turn now.

'Harry.'

'What?' she mumbled, looking round at her friends again.

Ron frowned at her. 'You were staring at the Slytherins ... again. No, scratch that; you were staring at _Malfoy_ this time.'

'So what?' snapped Harry, automatically becoming defensive.

Raising his eyebrows sceptically, Ron glanced over at the Slytherin table as did Hermione. It did not take very long before the two of them caught on.

'_Shit_, Harry, tell me you didn't –!'

'You told him?! Oh, _finally_! That's wonderful –!'

Harry stared back and forth between her best friends, highly bemused by their different reactions. Ron looked as if he was suffering from an apoplexy while Hermione's happy face was the human equivalent of a rising sun.

'Er, yes, I told him,' she admitted at last, clearing her thought self-consciously. 'Last night.'

Hermione's eyes widened and then she began to laugh merrily. 'And to think that, last night, all of us were talking about how you would never tell Malfoy! How ironic.'

'But I can't believe you did it, Harry,' Ron interjected. 'I thought you hated the git! And why didn't you tell us earlier?'

Sighing, Harry prepared to give a long explanation. However, she made a mental note to never mention the "harassment" and what he had said (or she had _imagined_ he had said) last night. Those were not topics she ever wanted to discuss with them, best friends for life or not.

* * *

Blaise leaned against the doorframe of the seventh year boys' dormitory and folded his arms irritably. This must be the sixth or seventh night in a row that he had entered the room after dinner to find Draco Malfoy sprawled on his bed, staring into space. Not only that, but it seemed that Draco was off in his own trouble-filled world even during his waking hours. He had become increasingly more detached and colder than before (how the _hell_ was that possible?! Blaise could practically feel the chill emitting off Draco nowadays) and Blaise was not about to tolerate it any longer.

_Honestly, Malfoys are so bothersome_. They were so dramatic. Well, fine, so Draco had become more of the aloof and indifferent type after the War, but Blaise still maintained that the blond was a drama queen – he just pulled it off in his own silent style.

'Well?' Blaise prompted when Draco failed to notice his presence. 'Will you talk now?'

Draco turned his head slowly towards his friend. 'What are you on about?'

The brunet rolled his eyes. 'It's been a week since you became an even more oblivious-to-the-world mute, Draco. For how long do you plan on keeping this up before you become normal or at least start talking to me again?'

'I just ... I have a lot on my mind.'

'I can see that!' Blaise snapped. 'But maybe it's time you started expelling some of that out of your system before your health deteriorates even more!'

'What?' Draco sounded confused.

'Oh, Merlin, you don't even notice, do you? You don't eat anything, you're not paying attention in classes, you haven't complained about Weasley messing up your Potions project even once, and I know for a fact that you barely sleep at night. So yes, Draco, I know perfectly well that you've got _a lot on your mind_, but if I have to beat you round the head with a Beater's club to drag you out of those thoughts for the sake of your health, then I will!'

Groaning, Draco sat up slowly. 'Has anybody ever told you that you fret too much? You're my best friend, Blaise, not my mother.'

'When your mother is not here, then your best friend is the one who qualifies for the position.'

The blond raised an eyebrow. 'Is that your belief? Well, I have a better theory: what if you've got all these maternal feelings because you're actually a woman? Oh, Merlin help us, you're a cross-dresser, aren't you!'

Scowling deeply at the injuring joke, Blaise was about to tell him off when he noticed how Draco's lips had curled up. There was true amusement in his grey eyes which had looked so dull and gloomy lately.

Blaise chuckled, somewhat relieved. 'It's good to finally see you smile, my friend. I had really begun to worry these past few days.'

Draco's smile faltered. 'I'm sorry about that, Blaise,' he said very quietly. Blaise blinked in surprise. It was not everyday that one heard a Malfoy apologise. 'But I –'

'You were preoccupied, yes I know, but ... Look, Draco, you know that I've never been one to pry; I respect people's privacy. But perhaps ...' Blaise hesitated for a moment, 'maybe this time, it would be easier for you if you just talked about your problems with someone? Just a suggestion, though,' he added quickly, seeing the hard expression that crossed the other's face.

Draco stayed silent for so long that Blaise gave up. He was about to leave the dorm when, eventually,

'Hariah Potter.'

Blaise gave Draco his full attention at once. 'What did you say?'

'Hariah Potter ... she's the one. The ring chose her.'

The other Slytherin had to force his jaw not to drop open. 'But how – how do you ...?'

'She told me ... about a week or so ago.'

Blaise gaped at him. 'She ... told you? On her own? _Merlin_,' he dragged a hand through his dark hair, 'I was beginning to doubt whether she would actually have the gall to do it herself ...'

'What?' Draco said sharply, his eyes narrowing. 'Are you telling me that you knew it was her all along?'

_Oh, damn. _

'Yes, I –'

'And you never told me all these months?!' Draco barked, leaping to his feet. 'You _knew_ and–?'

'Drake, calm down!' Blaise exclaimed. 'I found out only a few days ago, honestly! But I decided to give her the chance to tell you herself first. If she hadn't told you sooner, Draco, believe me, I truly would have!'

A little pacified, Draco sat down again and Blaise heaved a sigh of relief. Another thing he had forgotten: Malfoys could be inhumanely scary when they wanted to. An awkward moment of silence followed before the latter ventured cautiously, 'So ... what did you do?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'Yes, Blaise!' Draco groaned and there was definitely more than a hint of hysteria in his voice this time. He fell back against his pillow and buried his face in one hand. 'I didn't do anything! I ... I don't even know what I _should_ do!'

A little concerned at Draco's sudden bout of panic, Blaise approached his bed and sat down on a corner. 'Hey there, take it easy, Drake. One step at a time, all right? Uh, well ... what do you think you should –?'

'_Think_? I have been thinking about this nonstop for the past week, Blaise! I thought about what she said, I thought about things I promised myself I would never think about again, I've been thinking so much I'm utterly tired of it, but I still have absolutely no goddamn idea what I should do!'

Another awkward moment of silence followed before Blaise murmured, 'Maybe you should figure out your own feelings towards Harry first. And before you smother me with another lecture of how she humiliated you on the train and how much you hate her, I'd like to suggest that you drop that facade you hide behind. Because I know, Draco,' he glared at the other Slytherin when he made to interrupt him, 'I _know_ that you have other feelings for her apart from your overwhelming dislike. You've hidden them well, but they're still there. And perhaps those are the ones you should consider because I have a suspicion that they are what you truly feel; not merely this blinding hatred.'

For a second, Draco stared at his friend with such shock it looked almost comical, but then he schooled his expression back to neutral again. 'Blaise ... how do you know me so well? We've known each other only a few months.'

'But, for the most part, we have a similar way of thinking, Draco. I find it easy to read you.'

'I should be worried about that.'

'Don't be. You know your secrets are safe with me.'

The blond gazed at him for a long minute, eyes filled with grave contemplation. 'Yes,' he said, finally, 'which is probably why I'm even considering telling you what I've tried to forget for all these years...'

At that, Blaise looked at Draco expectantly, turning so that he was facing him fully. He leaned forward in anticipation.

'Would you stop looking at me like that? Here I'm about to tell you something I've never told another soul, Zabini, and having you gawk at my face like some bug-eyed imp is not helping in the least!'

Blaise almost burst out laughing, but meekly turned away nevertheless, fighting down a smile at the same time. For all that Draco tried to hide his flaws, he was still imperfect; his childish fears and diffidence broke through during the most unexpected of circumstances. Blaise was glad, though; they were proof that Draco Malfoy was still human – something that many tended to overlook because of his high-and-mighty disposition.

'Alright,' Draco muttered finally, sounding a little ill at ease. 'So ... so, you already know what happened on the train. I offered her friendship and she spurned me to be with that freckle-faced Weasel. I admit; I was very angry back then. I mean, she had said no to _me_! No one says no to a Malfoy! But now when I think about it, I ...' he cleared his throat uncomfortably, 'I think I was angrier at ... well, Weasley rather than Potter. I thought it was the most unfair thing in the world. _I_ had seen her first in Madam Malkin's, not Weasley. I talked to her first, not him. So, naturally, I believed I had more right to her companionship than the Weasel –'

'To put it simply, you were nothing but a possessive bastard back then,' Blaise sniggered.

'You want to listen or not?' Draco said irritably.

'Sorry, Drake, I couldn't resist. Go on.'

'Right. So, ever since then, I took every opportunity to insult Potter and her friends. Initially, I believed that I was simply showing her what happened to people that refused a Malfoy; I believed that for a very long time ... but, eventually...' Draco bowed his head to hide the humiliation on his face. 'I ... I began to notice that I was thinking ... about her ... all the time...

'Not in the romantic sense, no, but Potter was – she was always _there_. Whether I was trying to come up with a fitting insult or wondering if I would have a chance to gloat in her face that day, whatever I was thinking, it was almost always about _her_. It ... it even scared me how much I had her on my mind!

'And then I began to notice even more things I'd disregarded before. Like, during those times when she would just ignore my insults and walk off like I didn't even exist...! I – I can't explain what happened to me then! This inexplicable anger would rise up immediately and I'd feel just so ... so _frustrated_. Sometimes, when she ignored me, I even wanted to just go after Potter and force her to respond to me! It was like – like...'

'Like you wanted nothing more than her attention,' Blaise finished softly.

'Yes,' Draco mumbled. He was still averting his face from Blaise though his friend was determinedly looking at the opposite wall. Draco paused for a second before he confessed, 'That was when I realised that all those insults, all the taunting, all the fights – I started every single one of them just so she'd pay attention to me. Whenever we passed each other in the corridors, I just had to say something so that Potter would at least look at me. Sometimes, that was all I could think about...'

'I see,' Blaise said matter-of-factly. 'Anything else?'

The blond had to force himself to speak this time. 'I was jealous.'

'Wait, what?'

Sounding extremely reluctant, Draco continued, 'You heard me, Blaise. I was jealous – of everyone around Potter. Especially Weasley and Granger. It took me another lifetime to figure that sentiment out, but I eventually knew. How couldn't I? After all, every time I saw the three of them together, laughing and talking as if they belonged together, it just ate me alive. They were so close to her, knew her so well ... and I longed for the same thing. I wanted nothing more than to haul her two sidekicks away and take their places myself. I always kept thinking things like, _It should have been me. It should be _my_ hand that she's holding, not theirs. _I_ should be the one that's making her laugh, not them. She should be considering _me_ as her best friend, not them. It should have been her and I, just _us_ ... no one else_. I couldn't get it out of my head.

'But by then, I knew it was too late. I could never have her friendship, and I couldn't handle her rejection of me. So ... I tried to convince myself that I hated her with all my heart. I buried down everything, what I felt, what I thought, the friendship I wanted from her ... I just bottled them all up and promised never to think of her that way ever again. I told myself I could just move on and make her life a living hell while I was at it. And I acted on it, Blaise. I did, but still ... those memories still come up sometimes...'

Draco heaved a sigh. 'So, now you see, Blaise, why I don't know what to do. All this time I've been trying to convince myself I loathed her. She's been my rival all these years in Hogwarts, but...'

'But, deep inside, you know you don't really hate her,' Blaise finished for him. 'You still want the same thing you wanted from Harry when you first met her.'

Draco's silence spoke volumes.

Blaise shook his head slightly. A part of him was appreciating how much courage and resilience Draco had worked up to confide his innermost feelings and secrets in him; the other part was marvelling at the unbelievable truths that had been revealed tonight.

'I can barely believe this,' he murmured. 'You make such a convincing show of hating her, but all this time, you've been in love with her!'

'Love?' Draco repeated, jerking upright. He frowned. 'That's a very strong word, Blaise. One should know another well before they can love. No, I was never in love with Potter. She was just ... just ...'

'She was an obsession,' Blaise nodded.

Draco did not look too happy with that term either, but he nodded nonetheless. 'I suppose so.'

'Hmm ... well, let's leave aside my opinion. What do _you_ think you should do?'

'I told you, I have no idea. But I've sort of been thinking that maybe, it would be best if I just called it off.'

'_What_?'

'It's what she wants, Blaise. Hariah Potter would never marry me. She'd be happiest if I just removed that ring from her.'

'Ah, but would _you _be happy, Draco? Is this what _you_ want?' Blaise half-glared at the blond, daring him to lie.

Draco said nothing.

'Well,' Blaise drawled with an exaggerated yawn, getting to his feet, 'if you decide to call it off, let me know, would you, so that I can take a shot at courting her. I'd like to take Harry as my wife.'

'You _what_?' Draco was on his feet in an instant, eyes blazing. 'Stay the hell away from her, Zabini! She's _my_ fiancée –!' He stopped dead when Blaise threw his head back and began to laugh heartily.

'You played me on purpose, didn't you?' Draco said coldly.

Blaise smirked, leaning against the bed post. 'Once a possessive bastard, always a possessive bastard.'

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Draco flopped down on the bed again and ignored the high colour in his cheeks.

With a low chuckle, Blaise said softly, 'Look, Drake, I don't think you should call off this engagement yet. I mean, you've always wanted to be with Harry, haven't you? You messed up your chances before, but now you have another golden opportunity! And I know that you believe that she hates you, but can't you persuade her to at least get to know you a little? Learn more about each other throughout this engagement. If you like her enough to marry her, then just win her heart over –'

'Blaise, she loathes me to the point where I can never redeem myself in her eyes.'

'Nonsense. She's still human, isn't she? And a human's heart can be converted. You just have to try hard enough. Show her how you've changed into a better person, Draco. Trust me, you _are_ a better person now, you better believe it. And Harry Potter may love you yet.'

_Love_. There was that word again. Draco shivered slightly.

When he did not reply, Blaise added more seriously, 'Draco, here is a girl that you've been obsessing over ever since you were eleven. You've wanted her forever, and now, you've been given a second chance at it.' He tipped his head to one side, watching the troubled look on Draco's features.

'Tell me, Drake ... are you really just going to let her go?'

* * *

Draco did not talk about anything he and Blaise had discussed the next day. Blaise did not press him, either. Instead, both of them fell into an unspoken agreement to just concentrate on their classes as if no ground-breaking secrets had been revealed; Blaise because he had completed his best-friend job of helping the other Slytherin get his head back together, and Draco because ... well, he simply did not want to think about his engagement after that gruelling conversation he had had the night before. He was determined to focus on his studies and catch up with what he had fallen behind. As for the whole Hariah-Potter-thing – he would take that one step at a time, like Blaise had suggested.

Thus, the entire day passed peacefully enough (though Draco had to exercise a lot of self-control as he tried not to stare at Hariah Potter too much during his classes) and by the time dinner was over, Draco felt a lot calmer than he had for the past several weeks. Though it was incredibly hard, forcing himself not to think about Potter or his engagement was extremely soothing to his exhausted brain. His good mood lasted all the way to the dungeons, but Blaise and he had barely reached the common room when –

'Mr Malfoy! There you are, my boy!'

Draco sighed tiredly. 'What does _he_ want?' he muttered, turning to face Slughorn.

'I just sent one of the younger students out looking for you,' Professor Slughorn said jovially as he approached the duo. 'If you would please step into my office? Run along there, Mr Zabini.'

Exchanging a look, Draco and Blaise parted ways, the former following his teacher up the corridor.

'Your mother wants to have a little Floo chat with you, Mr Malfoy,' Slughorn explained before Draco could even open his mouth.

Said blond nearly tripped over his own feet. 'My mother? But ... why couldn't she have just sent me an owl?'

'Well, about that. You see, dear boy, your mother gave me another Floo call about a week ago as well. I believe I told your friend, Mr Zabini, to inform you of that? Well, no matter. Anyway, at that time, your mother seemed very anxious. She said that you had not replied to one of her urgent letters and so, had grown worried that something had happened to you. But I reassured Mrs Malfoy that you were as right as rain and that there was absolutely nothing to worry about!

'However, she just gave me another call again. According to her, you still have not answered that letter and she is very worried, and quite desperate to talk with you! So, Mr Malfoy, inside please,' he said, opening his office door upon reaching it.

'I shall wait outside,' he added when Draco entered.

Draco immediately hurried over to the fireplace where a small, but merry fire was burning brightly. Narcissa Malfoy's blond head rested right in the middle of the flames and it turned in his direction at once.

'Draco! Oh, darling, thank heavens that you're all right!' Narcissa exclaimed tearfully as Draco knelt down on the hearth in front of her.

'Of course, I'm fine, Mother,' Draco said in a reassuring voice.

'But why did you not answer my letter, Dragon? It has been weeks! You cannot blame me for worrying.'

Guilt welled up within him. He knew exactly which letter she was referring to. It was the one she had sent immediately after Skeeter had published her article, demanding to know if it was true. But Draco, feeling both ashamed and fearful, had put off answering it until he had eventually forgotten about it.

'Forgive me, Mother. It just escaped my mind. I had many other things to think about.'

'I see,' Narcissa murmured softly, watching him with thoughtful eyes. 'Well, tell me then, darling, what that wicked woman wrote in her article – was it true?'

Very hesitantly, he shook his head. 'No, Mother ... it's not true.'

His mother's eyes lit up. 'So, you have found your fiancée?'

'... Yes.'

'Oh, that is wonderful news! But Draco,' she added reproachfully, 'why did you not inform me?'

He swallowed, trying to think of a believable excuse. 'Because ... well, I still haven't decided if I want her, Mother...'

'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Dragon. You do not need to finalise the marriage before telling me her identity. Simply because I know who she is does not necessarily mean you're ultimately forced to marry her!'

'No, of course not, I know that, Mother. But ... you see, I ... she is... we're ...' He shook his head in aggravation. How was he supposed to explain everything to her when he himself was still as confused as he had been in the first place? 'It's complicated, Mother. I cannot explain it just now, but I shall soon.' He scrambled to his feet. 'Please, just wait a few more days. I promise I shall tell you soon enough...'

'Draco,' Narcissa said, looking slightly alarmed now. 'What is wrong, darling? Who is the girl? Did something happen? Wait, don't leave –!'

'Please,' he said desperately, backing away towards the door. 'Just wait a little. This whole mess will be cleared up and I'll you then. Please, Mother ...'

'Dragon!'

But he was already out the door. Ignoring a surprised Slughorn, he hurried away towards the common room, frantically hoping that his mother would understand. He did not want to hurt her, but for now, he had to keep her in the dark. It could not be helped.

_Please understand_.

* * *

'Are you feeling all right?' Blaise asked when Draco woke up the next morning. The blond made no answer, settling for a half-hearted shrug as he slid off his bed and began to hunt for his robes.

'I'm sure she'll understand, Draco,' Blaise added quietly as he fumbled with his tie. Draco had already given him a very short explanation of what had happened in Slughorn's office.

His friend merely nodded as he stalked towards the bathroom. No more words were exchanged after that.

Soon, both of them were dressed and about to leave for the Great Hall when a loud _crack_ sounded from within the room. The two Slytherins whirled around at once.

A small house-elf stood in the middle of the dormitory. She quickly bowed low when they turned towards her.

'I – I is told to give this to Master Draco Malfoy,' she squeaked, holding out a small, sealed scroll.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco accepted the roll of parchment upon which the little elf bowed once again before disappearing. Puzzled, he quickly broke the seal and began to read.

'... What ...?'

'What does it say?' Blaise asked, looking as puzzled as the other teen.

'I'm excused from my morning classes,' Draco said, staring down at the note. 'And I'm to go to the Headmistress' office immediately ... the password's given as well.'

Blaise peered over his shoulder to read the letter himself. 'Whoa, Drake; no classes today and a formal summon to the Headmistress' office to boot? What have you been up to?'

'I'm wondering that myself,' the Malfoy heir muttered, perplexed.

'Better get going then. McGonagall won't be pleased if you're late.'

Nodding vaguely, Draco dropped his bag onto his bed and left the dormitory, wondering why McGonagall would want to see him? He had done nothing against the rules this year – at least, as far as he was aware of. _Am I in trouble? Or is it another nosy reporter?_

A few minutes later, he was standing in front of the stong, oak doors. 'Enter,' called McGonagall crisply when he knocked. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed open the doors and walked inside only to halt in his tracks when he saw the other woman that was with the Headmistress.

'Mother?'

* * *

Harry tapped her quill against her cheek as she watched Blaise Zabini taking down notes during double Charms. On the isle next to hers, she could feel Hermione looking disapprovingly at her for not doing the same, but she ignored her friend. Professor Flitwick was in the habit of writing their notes on the board. She had plenty of time to take them down.

She turned her attention back to Blaise. Harry was quite surprised to see him in class alone. There was no sign of Malfoy. _What happened to him?_ Usually, the pair of them was nigh inseparable.

_Maybe he fell ill_, she thought. To be honest, Harry was getting desperate to see Malfoy again. He had been avoiding her for days now, but surely he must have come to terms with the situation by now? What was taking him so long to just take his stupid ring back?

Right at that instant she noticed the small piece of parchment that suddenly appeared on her table. Harry blinked, startled. Where had that come from?

Uncertainly, she picked up the note and unfolded it. Written inside in a barely legible script, as if it had been scrawled in a hurry, were the words:

_DADA classroom, lunch hour_

_D. Malfoy_

Harry had to read it twice before she understood. _Is this it?_ She wondered, feeling her heart rate beginning to accelerate. Was he asking to meet her to finally call off the engagement?

_Please, let it be so._

_

* * *

_

Harry had to admit; using the unused Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom as a meeting place was a brilliant idea. There were next to no chances of anyone walking in on them, so their deal could easily be kept a secret. However...

_Did he _have_ to meet me during lunch?_ Harry thought irately as she slammed the classroom door shut behind her. Dropping her bag onto a random table, she pulled out a chair and set down, preparing to wait for Malfoy who apparently could not be on time to meetings he organised. _I'm so hungry. He better make this quick._

Leaning back in her seat, Harry swung her feet up onto the table, balancing the chair on its back legs. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked down at her now-healed left hand. She had removed the bandages on the way here since the ring would soon be gone anyway. Holding her arm up, Harry once more admired the sparkles the diamond gave off. _It really is a beauty_, Harry mused. And if it had not been what it was, then maybe, just maybe, she might miss having it on her finger. She had become so used to its weight over the past few months...

'Ahem.'

Harry turned her head towards the door quickly, dropping her hand onto her lap. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame as he looked at her. The usual apathetic expression was back on his face, but she immediately noticed that something was off about him, something she could not put her finger on. But next moment, Harry brushed it aside. Now was the not the time for stupid paranoia. She was finally going to be free!

Harry was about to drop her chair back on four legs (and give the git a good telling off for being tardy during _lunch hour_), when Malfoy cleared his throat again and stepped to one side. The raven-haired girl froze in her seat, eyes widening as she stared in disbelief at the blonde woman that walked into the room after the Malfoy heir.

_What the f –!_

Draco Malfoy chose to speak at that second. 'Mother, this is Hariah Potter ... my fiancée.'

Harry fell off her chair.

* * *

**A/N: That does _not_ count as a cliffhanger! ... Right??? ::meep:: PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!**

**All right, POLL RESULTS: Draco - 110 votes (35%). Blaise - 77 votes (24%). Harry - 59 votes (18%). "Someone else" - 37 votes (11%). Hermione/Ginny - 31 votes (9%). Total: 181 voters. Thanks for voting, people! I'll leave the closed poll on my profile for sometime so that you could check it out for yourselves if you want. And before you ask: Yes, I'd always planned on Harry telling Draco herself, even before I began writing this fic. :)**

**One more thing: Look, I'm still in high school, OK? And I just started my final year. So, I've got to work more on studies and tone down my leisure time a bit. You know what that means, right? Slower updates in the future. Sorry, guys, but that's just the way life works. :(**

**EDIT: Oops. I forgot to mention earlier: Much thanks to _Nikotehfox_ for** **"Oh hi, I'm your fiancée and I really enjoy it when you sexually harass me even though I [pretend to] despise you". Love you, my readers! You come up with some really good lines/phrases! :D  
**

**Reviews and concrit = lurve! XD**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Gone Wild_**


	14. Gone Wild

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: To clear up any confusion that you might have, the time is now close to October, OK? There was some serious time-skipping in the past couple of chapters. :)**

**And yeah, I know, I know; late update. Don't blame me, though. School killed me. **

**And ... ah, let's not dwell on the subject of how I got resurrected and get on with the fic, shall we? ;)**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: GONE WILD**

For one blissful second, everything appeared to have come to a halt. Harry could feel nothing, heard nothing; she just saw the blank, creamy ceiling above her and felt that she could have lain there forever, staring at that comforting blankness, but of course life was quick to catch up with her in all its unfair cruelty. First, the pain at the back of her skull became too pronounced to ignore, and then came the loud exclamation of 'Oh my! Is she all right?' That, if nothing else, forced her mind back to the present situation at hand.

A stream of colourful curses threatened to spill out of her mouth as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Her head was throbbing painfully and Harry was currently experiencing a bizarre sensation of not knowing where her limbs were. A moment later, she realised why: she had fallen backwards _with_ her chair and her right leg was spread at an odd angle on the floor, while the other was still on the overturned chair and sticking right up.

She looked preposterous.

Biting back those useful swear words she had learned from Ron, Harry struggled to right herself. She was flushing deeply and her humiliation increased tenfold when the voice that had spoken earlier said concernedly, 'Careful, Dragon. She might be hurt.'

Not a second passed after the voice had spoken before an arm was wrapped around her shoulders and another around her waist. Automatically clinging to her supporter, Harry freed her leg from the chair and then she was gently pulled to her feet. Once she had gained her balance, she looked up at the person with a ready 'Thank you' on her lips only to have the words stick in her throat when she was met with a pair of calculating grey eyes.

_Oh damn_ was the only thought her brain could conjure as the reminders of exactly _why_ she had been lying on the floor beat down on her brain with all the force of a sledgehammer. Those reflections were quickly followed by the sarcastic thought, _What a riveting first impression,_ when Harry finally recalled the other person who was in the room with them.

With the utmost reluctance, she slowly turned her head towards the door, praying desperately that it had all been her imagination. But reality was apparently far more vindictive than her imagination could ever be, for Narcissa Malfoy was still there. And when she reached out and brushed the errant strands of hair out of Harry's eyes with unexpected tenderness, all her optimistic hopes that it was merely an illusion/hallucination/anything-that-is-not-really-real-tion went up in smoke.

_Oh, Merlin, this can't be real. But she's here_, Harry thought, beginning to panic as her disbelief and logic began to brew a messy war in her mind. But then, _What the hell is she doing here?! _Why_ is she here?!_

Before Harry could act on her first instinct – which was to leap at Draco Malfoy's throat and wring an answer out of him – the blonde-haired woman said gently, 'How are you feeling, Miss Potter? That was quite a nasty fall you had there.'

Harry just gaped at her, open-mouthed. This was _Narcissa Malfoy_ – and she actually sounded concerned for her, Harry Potter! The shock was almost equal to that of Malfoy being civil to Ron! _Is the sun going to rise from the West as well?_ She wondered dazedly.

'Oh ... perhaps, she's suffering from a concussion,' Narcissa said to her son in a worried voice when Harry did not recover from her retarded state. 'I think it would be best if we took her to see the nurse.'

At her words, Malfoy's arms around her tightened and he made as if to lead her to the door. That was when Harry finally remembered that she was still holding onto the Slytherin with a death grip. His touch suddenly felt like shocks of electricity and she leapt away from him with a soft gasp.

'No, I – I'm fine,' Harry blurted, breathing hard. She tugged at the sleeves of her robes nervously when goosebumps broke out on her arms as her traitorous body recalled his warmth and revelled in the sensation of having him hold her. Embarrassed and hating herself for harbouring such unwanted feelings, Harry shot a cautious glance at Malfoy. He had dropped his arms back to his sides and was determinedly looking at his mother, who had begun to speak again,

'... quite sure you're feeling –?'

'Yes, yes,' Harry said quickly, turning to face the other woman only to blush under the concerned look Narcissa Malfoy was giving her. 'Er, I'm fine, thank you ... Mrs Malfoy,' she added, hoping that she sounded calm and polite as opposed to hysterical.

The blonde woman gave a delicate laugh then, which only served to put Harry even more on edge, if that was possible. 'Mrs Malfoy,' she repeated, looking amusedly at the raven-haired girl. 'That sounds far too formal. I imagine that it would be more appropriate for you to call me Narcissa for the time-being, seeing as you are my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.'

At her last words, Harry nearly choked on thin air. This was _not_ the scenario she had had in mind when she had first stepped into the room! Confused beyond comprehension and beginning to panic again, she looked back and forth between the two Malfoys, desperate for an explanation. Her "fiancé" was carefully avoiding her eyes which badly made her want to give him such a kick as to render him sterile, but his mother, on the other hand, was openly gazing at her which did nothing to soothe her frenzied nerves. In fact, Harry could have sworn Narcissa Malfoy looked almost pleased as she gave the Gryffindor a critical once-over.

'Hmm.' She took a step closer to Harry who nearly tripped as she backed away intuitively. Not looking at all offended by this unwitting show of rudeness, Narcissa studied her face carefully and her lips curled up a bit more. 'Not exactly who I expected,' she murmured. 'I confess to being a little surprised at the ring's choice, Miss Potter. I never dreamed that Draco's desire was for you...'

_Excuse me?!_ Harry practically screamed in her mind. She would have gladly voiced the words out loud as well, but she was too busy trying not to choke again – this time on her own spit.

'Yes,' Narcissa continued, either ignoring or ignorant of Harry's discomfort, 'it was quite a bolt from the blue ... but not necessarily an unpleasant one.' There was no mistaking it. She was definitely smiling now. 'Well, Dragon, what can I say? I have no complaints. Everyone knows Hariah Potter to be an honourable woman, and you have chosen well like I have always believed that you would.'

'I ... Thank you, Mother,' Malfoy spoke for the first time since his mother had entered the room. He sound and looked extremely ill at ease.

As for Harry, she was speechless. She just stared as Narcissa stepped away from her at last. Her thoughts were all jumbled up and she could just barely make head or tail of them. Here she was, a betrothed girl who had been hoping to have the engagement called off, only to get treated to a little chat with the mother of her fiancé! It made no sense. Why had Narcissa come to fuss over her right when she had thought she was free of this so-called marriage? The whole experience almost felt like a fiancée-meeting-future-mother-in-law thing...

The realisation hit her like a powerful _sectumsempra_ to the chest. She nearly fell over again when the enormity of the situation truly sunk in. Draco Malfoy had not brought her here to free her. His plan had been to only introduce her to his mother! Her "future mother-in-law"! He had never intended to take the ring back...

_Oh. My. God._

Had she been in her full senses, Harry might have tried to think everything through logically and reasonably. However, her sudden epiphany had put only one train of thought into her head:

Draco Malfoy had formally introduced her to his mother as his fiancée.

Narcissa Malfoy had practically accepted her as a daughter-in-law.

The Malfoy engagement ring was still on her finger. And thus, the engagement was even now intact – and from the recent turn of events, it would remain that way ... permanently.

For Harry, all this added up to only one thing: Draco Malfoy was coercing her into matrimony. He was _forcing _her to marry him!

Harry saw bloody red.

She barely noticed when Narcissa took her arm and gently pulled her towards Malfoy. Only when their elbows bumped together did Harry come out of her furious stupor and her anger nearly boiled over when Narcissa, watching them stand together with a brilliant smile, commented lightly, 'Such polar opposites! Like night and day ... Both of you make a lovely couple, if you'll forgive me for saying so.'

The Gryffindor bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from saying anything she would regret later. For now, Narcissa was not the one she wanted to rip apart with her bare hands...

Her control nearly evaporated when the blonde woman added, smiling at her, 'And, to be completely honest, I am rather glad that it would be you who takes my place as Mistress of the Malfoy family. I daresay that I couldn't have asked for a better wife for Draco, and I look forward to getting to know you better, Hariah ... you do not mind my calling you Hariah, do you?'

Harry shook her head curtly. 'No, it's fine,' she answered levelly. Her voice was colder than before and she could tell that Malfoy had immediately noticed the change; he fidgeted slightly, but did not speak.

Seemingly oblivious to the change in Harry's demeanour, Narcissa nodded graciously at her. 'Thank you, Hariah. And now I must leave. It has been a few hours since my arrival and I have little time to spare at the moment. However, I trust that we shall meet again soon.' With another disconcerting smile, she held out a hand which Harry accepted briefly, keeping her face neutral.

Taking her leave, Narcissa turned to exit the room, turning down her son's offer to see her off as she did so. 'No need, Dragon,' she waved him off. 'I shall simply use the Floo network from the Headmistress' office to return to the manor.'

Despite her words, Malfoy hurried after her towards the door. He looked, Harry thought with some satisfaction, a little too eager to leave the room. 'But, Mother ...' he began.

'Draco, there is no call for you to accompany me to Professor McGonagall's office,' Narcissa cut across him. 'I shall manage fine on my own. Farewell for now, Dragon, Hariah. Until our next meeting,' she added, looking directly at Harry before disappearing through the door.

There was pin drop silence in the room after she had left. Malfoy stood where he was, frozen to the spot as he rigidly faced the open doorway. Harry silently stood a little behind him, nearly drilling a hole into the back of his head as she glared at him with hate-filled eyes. She could practically feel her blood boiling over as her anger began to consume her. Her fingers itched to draw her wand and deliver a well-deserved hex to Malfoy's backside, but even that felt too inadequate in comparison to what he had just done.

_How dare he! To even think that he can force this on me! ... Bastard..._

As if he could feel her attempting to kill him basilisk-style, Malfoy squirmed slightly again. Harry watched this show of nervousness without sympathy. At the moment, that was the last thing he would get from her. Balling her right hand into a fist, she drew her arm back and waited impatiently, still glowering at the man in front of her.

_Turn around, scumbag, turn around..._

At long last, Draco Malfoy took a deep, audible breath and slowly faced her. He only caught a glimpse of her blazing eyes before Harry let fly and her knuckles collided with his face with an appalling _crunch_.

* * *

It had been a long time since Draco had accepted that looks could be very deceiving. He had learnt that lesson the hard way during his fifth year when he had made the mistake of insulting Potter's parents after losing the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match of the year. Never had he imagined that a skinny, scrawny girl could inflict any serious physical pain on him, but Potter had proved him wrong that day when she had attempted to punch him to oblivion. Apparently, anger could drive a person to the very extreme.

So, he was not really all that surprised at her brute strength when he found himself lying on his back on the classroom floor with half of his face throbbing with agony and stars sparkling in front of his eyes. In fact, he had been somewhat anticipating her to unleash her fury on him after what had just transpired; it was understandable. What he had not been expecting, however, was for Hariah Potter to launch herself at him straight afterwards.

The air was knocked out of his lungs as she landed on his midriff, and for a moment, he wondered if she was seriously considering murder. With a wild maniacal look in her eyes that instantly awoke fear in his heart, she straddled him to keep him down and grabbed his shirt front.

'Look here, you good-for-nothing, two-faced, filthy bastard,' she hissed menacingly. It would have sounded less scary if she had simply shouted at him. 'What did you think, eh? That you can just _make_ me marry you for whatever reason?! That, because you introduced me to your mother, I'll just take it lying down and play along with you?'

'No,' Draco spoke up before she could continue. Gathering what courage he had, he met her ferocious gaze dead on and continued evenly, 'No, I didn't think that. But let me explain; you've got the wrong end of the stick, Potter –'

She interrupted him with a harsh laugh. 'Oh, I think not, _Dragon_. Everything is quite obvious. You bloody tricked me into coming here!' The cold mirth left her face and she yanked him up by his lapel so that he was nose to nose with her.

That was when the whole situation went right over the boundaries of _dead-wrong-and-should-never-happen_. As she pulled him half-way off the floor, Potter leaned back slightly and ended up sitting right on top of his...

_Oh, hell_, Draco thought, his eyes widening at the sudden jolts of electricity that began to race through his nerves. His heart began to pound and his mouth went dry as an intense desire to buck his hips against hers overcame him. Draco gritted his teeth, trying to keep the unholy thoughts at bay; now was _not_ the time for his hormones to act up! But, next second, his thoughts went haywire as Potter inadvertently moved her lower body slightly, which instantaneously sent every drop of his blood travelling down south. _Please, no..._ She was almost _grinding_ against him...!

Potter did not appear to have noticed the effect her unwitting actions were having on him, nor was she done with her outraged speech. Her eyes were still shooting daggers as she growled at him in a low tone, 'I don't know what kind of perverse game you're trying to play here, Malfoy, and I don't want to find out, either. But get this through your head: I'm _not_ going to marry you, and don't think, even for a second, that you can force me! I'm not your little toy, Malfoy!'

Draco barely heard what she had said and simply gazed up at her, dazed. She was no longer moving against him, but his body apparently could not care less. His current "condition" was getting even _worse_ if that was possible, and he could practically feel his self-control seeping away as the sound of his logic screaming, _Get away from her, moron! Push her off_, grew fainter. Without even realising what he was doing, Draco let his hands rest on either side of her hips, holding her down against him...

_This is not going to end well_, his logic whispered before dying away.

Draco had just about given himself over to his animal instincts – which would have probably involved him devouring her sinfully delectable lips and making her scream by means that should never be practised in a classroom – when Hariah Potter, who had opened her mouth to presumably let loose another string of profanity, abruptly stiffened. A look of confusion, followed by comprehension and then sudden horror crossed her features in the space of five seconds.

Somehow, the expression on her face managed to drill through the lustful haze in his mind. Alarm bells began to go off when, at length, he understood what must have happened. His overwhelming desire slowly diminished as dread took its place.

_Oh, damn._

Potter gaped at him, wide-eyed, before she let her gaze drop down to where she was sitting on him. Her face flushed tomato-red and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly while embarrassment filled her green eyes. Paling, Draco prayed for a miracle that would allow him to escape the impending mortification, but even then, he knew it was hopeless. His "condition" was such that there was no way that it could escape her attention. And she probably had enough brains to know that what was poking her _down there_ was not merely his wand … literally, that is.

SMACK!

_Ouch._ That was the second dealing of abuse his poor face had been exposed to in less than ten minutes, and Draco rather felt that Hariah Potter could slap as hard as she could punch, if not harder. His head rang with the impact of her blow and it took a few seconds for his eyesight to return to normal. By then, she was on her feet and had put a safe distance of five yards between them.

'You sick pervert!'

Draco winced slightly. Potter had never struck him as the screeching type of girl, but right then, her voice was so shrill with hysteria that she could have put Pansy Parkinson to shame.

'How dare you! You – you…' Her blush deepened furiously as she stared at him. No, not at his face, but at a point much lower…

Blushing as deeply as she was, Draco quickly pulled his knees up to hide the bulge in his pants. Why, oh, _why_ had he left his robes unbuttoned?

Potter seemed unable to come up with anything to say. Mumbling something that sounded more or less like a gurgle, she turned and ran for the door. She only paused to say threateningly (or, at least, as threateningly as possible under the current circumstances), 'You will take this bloody ring off me, Malfoy! And you will tell your mother that I'm not the girl who's going to be the next "Mistress" of your family!'

And then she was gone, but the sound of her cursing floated back into the room. With a groan, Draco buried his face in his hand. That had not gone well at all.

* * *

_What the hell? What the HELL? WHAT THE HELL?!_

Harry shuddered as she quickly walked away from the Defence classroom. She resisted the compulsion to wrap her arms around herself; she was not that weak! But still...

'I can't believe it,' she mumbled to herself, breathing hard. Draco Malfoy had actually been aroused back there! She was not mistaken, she was sure of it. Damn it, Harry had actually _felt_ his... 'Oh, shit.'

She had not thought that anything could be worse than _her_ feeling attracted to him when he had gone all sexual on her all those weeks ago, but to think that she could stir _him _up without even intending to do it ... well, that was just disturbing.

Harry bit her lip, suddenly feeling nervous. All these years, she had been under the impression that Draco Malfoy hated her – and with good reason, too! But now ... _What the hell is going on?_ He had changed, that much was obvious, but Harry had thought that it was only the War that had transformed him into the cold ice cube he was today. Through her visions, Harry had witnessed how wickedly Voldemort had used the Malfoy heir; it had sickened her and she had pitied his situation. It was understandable why, when everything was over, he had withdrawn from the world.

That change in Malfoy, Harry could understand. But this new, altered version of him went even beyond that! Like his recent actions around her...

Harry began to blush again, but she forced her mind to contemplate the memories of Malfoy's new civility towards non-Slytherins, his calm reaction to their accidental kiss, his deliberate-or-maybe-not-deliberate sexual harassment, the constant staring, the silent response he had given when she had revealed the truth, bringing her to his mother, and now the incident in the classroom. None of them tallied with someone who "hated" her, but he could not really be serious about marrying her out of _love_ or anything, right? Not once during their years at Hogwarts had Malfoy displayed any hints that he might even like her, let alone was attracted to her. The very thought went against nature!

Harry sighed, now more confused than ever. Draco Malfoy had become an enigma. Nothing was certain about him anymore. She could not accept that there might be a possibility of him feeling anything for her other than deep dislike at the least, but if he was trying to make her marry him, then surely there must be some reason for it.

_Or is he still unchanged at heart and sees me as his plaything because of the ring?_

She could find no answer for now, but one thing Harry knew for certain: whatever was going on in Malfoy's head, he would not succeed in forcing her into marriage. She would not let her free will be taken away ever again!

A proud, determined smile had barely formed on her lips when someone came barrelling around the corner and crashed right into her. She could have sworn that she heard her spine break as they fell over.

_Goddamn it. I'm cursed. And with my luck, it's probably Malfoy – again_.

Scowling inwardly, Harry cracked open an eye to see who it was. To her surprise, it was not just one, but two people that had nearly run her over. And for another thing –

'Ron? Hermione?'

'Oh, Harry, we're so sorry –!'

'You all right there, mate?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Can you repeat that after you both get off me?'

'Oh, right,' Ron said sheepishly. He helped Hermione to her feet before offering a helpful hand to Harry.

'You hurt?'

'A bit,' she admitted with a pained wince as Ron pulled her up. 'Why were you running, anyway? Where's the fire?'

Her friends exchanged a half-exasperated half-amused glance before answering in unison, 'Seamus.'

Temporarily forgetting her worries, Harry began to grin widely. 'What'd the bloke do?'

Her question was partially answered right then as a hideous noise, which sounded like a cross between a high-pitched yowl and roar, sounded from afar. Harry blinked, startled. That almost sounded like some sort of creature.

'Er, hey,' she began uncertainly as Ron and Hermione glanced over their shoulders at the empty corridor behind them. They both looked apprehensive, though in Ron's case, there was also a touch of excitement. 'What exactly has Seamus done?'

Shaking her head, Hermione answered, 'He released a bunch of Elemental Raptors into the Great Hall during lunch.'

'A bunch of _what_?'

'Elemental Raptors,' Ron said, his wary eyes still locked on the corridor. 'They're Velociraptors made of air, water, fire and earth.'

'It's a sort of dinosaur,' Hermione added, seeing Harry's puzzlement. She nodded vaguely; the only dinosaur she was familiar with was the famous T-Rex and that, too, only because she had stolen some of Dudley's picture books when she had been very young.

Another yowling screech sounded out and, this time, it sounded a lot closer. A few seconds later, little tremors began to shake the ground and what seemed like quick and heavy footfalls reached their ears. Growing fearful, Harry began to back away and her friends quickly followed. Soon, all three of them had broken into a run with Ron leading them away from the direction of the roar.

'Dinosaurs, huh. But where did Seamus get them?' Harry demanded.

'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes,' Hermione panted.

'What?!'

'The twins,' Ron explained, huffing, 'had been trying to invent them for a long time. They stopped during the War, but after Fred ...' he voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on nevertheless, 'well, George spent all summer developing them. He dedicated the whole lot to Fred. And Seamus, I think, is the first to buy them. Oh, damn it!' he snapped as they arrived at a staircase leading downstairs. 'We can't go down. Most of them are still in the Great Hall, but they're spreading all over the castle!'

'We have no choice,' Hermione cried as the footfalls and yowls grew louder. 'They're coming! Two of them, I think!'

Cursing, Ron took off down the stairs and the two girls followed suit.

'Why'd Seamus let loose a bunch of elemental dinosaurs in the castle?' Harry shouted, leaping over a trick stair. 'Has he gone completely mental?!'

'Actually, they're not all that dangerous,' Hermione answered.

'Then why the hell are we running?'

'How would you like it if a water-Raptor caught you and tried to tickle you to death with its tongue?!'

Harry shut up at once.

They reached the bottom of the staircase which led to another corridor that was thankfully empty. However, it did not look peaceful. Harry stared around in disbelief as she ran after Ron towards the other end; the whole place looked as if hell had unleashed its wrath there. Something that looked suspiciously like mud was splattered on the walls, half of the beautiful tapestries were burned and singed, there were puddles and trails of water all over the floor and the suits of armour lay in disarray all over the place as if a tornado had ripped through the hallway.

'What the –'

'Quick! In here!' Ron interrupted, pushing his hand against a particular area on the wall. It dissolved to reveal a hidden passageway and the three of them clambered inside. Once inside, the wall became intact again but not before Harry caught a glimpse of a fiery creature running past.

'Well ...' Hermione panted once they were engulfed in darkness. 'At least they weren't Elemental Pterodactyls or something. The flying dinosaurs,' she added helpfully as if she had seen Harry opening her mouth to ask.

'Don't get your hopes high, though,' Ron warned darkly. 'George just might invent those next.'

They sat there for a minute to catch their breath. Then Hermione lit her wand and got to her feet, pointing ahead of them. 'Come on,' she said, leading the way. 'Let's get to the other side.'

Falling into a narrow line, the three of them slowly made their way forward. Harry took out her wand and lit it as well.

'Can you explain,' she asked in a low voice, 'why Seamus did it? What was the point?'

'Inter-house Unity,' Hermione answered. Harry could practically hear her rolling her eyes. 'Right before unleashing those monstrosities, he got on top of the Gryffindor table during lunch, let everyone know precisely what he was up to, and then told all of us to rescue each other! He greatly emphasised that we should save someone from a different House if we can. Apparently, rescuing people from ticklish velociraptors is a great way of forming friendships.'

'And ... does it work?'

'I don't know,' Hermione said with a small shrug. 'Ron and I were too busy running from two fire-Raptors that would have burned us during the tickling process! Even their tongues are made of fire.'

'Yeah, but right before Seamus went insane on us, I overheard Dean telling Neville that Seamus had previously gone around telling the younger Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and some Ravenclaws about today's plan,' Ron added helpfully. 'Many of the midgets got excited and agreed with him and they were running around, trying to save the older students. Hell, I even saw a third year Hufflepuff save a fifth year Slytherin. They both ran off to rescue a bunch of Gryffindor girls; and they were bloody holding hands! So, maybe it really does work.'

Harry choked out a small incredulous laugh. 'Oh, Seamus. Bloke's insane, but he's a genius –'

'Like Dumbledore,' Ron grinned.

'But how do you "save" someone from a Raptor?' Harry asked curiously, peering around Hermione to see if the exit was coming up.

'The only thing that works on them is _Impedimenta_.'

'And, according to Seamus, they have a short life-span and will disappear in one hour. Right before lunch ends,' Hermione added, holding out a hand as the end of the passageway came into sight.

'But what about the mess they're creating?'

'Seamus said,' Ron answered, struggling to keep a straight face, 'that all the students should help clean up after classes today. _Working together_ equals even more_ House Unity_. And of course he did not wait for the weekend to do this. Primitive laws do not apply to "Leprechaun Boy".'

Harry snorted. 'And the teachers –?'

'–are running amok.'

'Here we are,' Hermione said, placing a hand on the wall in front of them. The end of the tunnel melted away and the three Gryffindors jumped through into the corridor on the other side – only to realise what a mistake that was. Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight her eyes beheld.

A spectacular battle between Hogwartians and Elemental Raptors was taking place in that particular hallway with the students shouting, '_Impedimenta_!' at the screeching monsters, which, in turn, were busy trying to lick at whatever human got in their way. Harry stared in wonder at the magical velociraptors; their bodies were reptilian with sharp heads, lean frames and long, whip-like tails. At least over two metres high, they stood on their hind legs which were longer and tougher than the frontal ones, though the curved razor-sharp claws on their feet looked equally deadly. And each one of them was made of fire, water, earth or air. The ones made of "air" merely looked like shimmering figures, but the earth-Raptors appeared to be made of mud.

'Watch out!' Ron shouted suddenly, grabbing Harry's arm and yanking her sideways just before a water-Raptor nearly crashed into her. Back-tracking, Harry apprehensively looked up at the velociraptor as it turned to face her and slid a watery tongue out of its liquid jaws. Before she could react, however, a spell hit the creature right in the face and it froze, giving her time to escape.

Looking around, Harry's eyes fell on a young Slytherin boy whose name she did not know. He was still pointing his wand at the immobilised Raptor.

'You OK, Potter?' He asked, crocking an eyebrow.

Harry gazed at him, surprised. 'Yeah ... thanks.'

'No problem.'

A scream of hysterical laughter cut through the atmosphere right then and Harry caught sight of Ginny Weasley and two of her friends being thoroughly tickled by a pack of four Elemental Raptors. The Slytherin smirked at Harry. 'Later, Chosen One. Got some lions to rescue.' With that, he ran towards Ginny, shooting Impediment Jinxes at her assaulters.

Raising her eyebrows, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione who were gaping after the boy.

'When has a Slytherin ever tried to save a Gryffindor, even if it is from some stupid dinosaurs?' Ron muttered; his eyes were like ostrich-eggs.

'I'm beginning to think that Seamus really does know what he's doing,' Hermione murmured.

'Well, in that case,' Harry said in a mock-serious voice, holding up her wand, 'let's go save some snakes!'

Without waiting to see her friends' reactions, she took off down the corridor, dodging the raptors and jinxing as many as possible. Soon, she heard footsteps behind her and Ron and Hermione shouting, '_Impedimenta_!' Harry laughed, enjoying herself. Running through the corridors like this, it was deeply reminiscent of the Last Battle that had taken place in Hogwarts, but this – this was actually _fun_. Harry could not remember the last time she had felt so light and carefree. And judging from the bouts of laughter coming from her best friends, they were feeling the same; even Hermione.

With a well-aimed jinx, Hermione immobilised an air-Raptor and Ron hauled its victim to his feet. It was Neville.

'How're you holding up?' Harry grinned at him.

'This is crazy!' Neville exclaimed. 'But – _Impedimenta_!' A fire-Raptor that was chasing a group of screaming second years froze. 'It's excellent,' Neville finished, smiling sheepishly.

'Well, of course it is!' A voice yelled excitedly.

'Hey there, Seamus,' Harry chuckled, turning to face the Irishman. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. He had shed his outer robes and was wearing a white cape over his school shirt. No, not a cape, she realised, but a sheet; probably the one belonging to his bed.

'Are you enjoying yourselves, my gallant comrades?' Seamus cracked.

'Sure,' Ron snickered. 'But, Seamus, is that supposed to be a cape, mate?'

'What's it for?' Neville added curiously.

'I'm the chief Knight in Shining Armour! Of course, I'd need a nice cape!' Seamus said obnoxiously as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Hermione and Neville tactfully turning their faces away while Ron not-so-tactfully slapped a hand to his forehead. Seamus, however, did not notice. His gaze had fallen on something behind them.

'What's wrong –?' Harry began, but before she could finish, he had run past her, cheerfully shouting, 'Don't worry, Millie! I'll save you!'

Harry did burst out laughing this time, as did her friends.

'Who wants to bet that Bulstrode will kick not only the Raptor's arse, but Seamus' as well?' Ron asked, sniggering.

'FINNEGAN!'

Everyone in the corridor jumped at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice and even the Elemental Raptors stiffened for a second before pursuing the students again. The screaming and laughter started up again at that. Ignoring the creatures, the Headmistress stormed into midst of the chaos, brushing past Harry and the Gryffindors towards Seamus.

'Yes, Headmistress?' He chirped from where he had been kneeling beside Millicent Bulstrode, who he had just "saved".

'Finnegan, get rid of these right now!' McGonagall barked, hexing a Raptor that had come running at her.

'No can do, Professor. They're here to stay until the lunch hour is up. But they will disappear, honest!' He added quickly upon seeing the puce colour spreading across the Headmistress' face. 'Just a few more minutes and they'll be gone.'

'Is that right?' she retorted. 'And I assume that it will be _you_ who will put this castle to rights again?'

'No worries, there, Professor!' Seamus beamed happily. 'All of us will clean up tonight after classes and that's a promise. It'll help the House friendship thingy.'

McGonagall was about to snap some more when her eyes landed on the other students. Harry smiled slightly as surprise flitted across the Headmistress' face at the sight of students helping each other. There was no order of Houses amongst them now. It was just a community of youths, battling a bunch of elemental monsters and having a good time thanks to the twisted plans of an equally twisted Irishman.

The irritation dissipated somewhat from Professor McGonagall, but she did not leave the corridor without a final threat to Seamus, 'If I see a single one of these monsters in the castle after lunch hour ends, you'll get detention for a fortnight, Finnegan!'

With that, she haughtily walked away. Before leaving, however, she caught sight of Harry and made a beeline for her. 'I'm glad I caught you here, Miss Potter. I'd like a word in my office, if you don't mind.'

Harry hesitated. She was having far too much fun to leave at the moment, but she nodded in acquiescence nevertheless. With a small shrug at her puzzled friends, Harry followed Professor McGonagall. However, she almost chomped her tongue off in a desperate attempt to repress her laughter when Harry overheard Seamus saying to Millicent,

'Hey, Millie, I just saved your life! Do I get a kiss?'

SMACK!

_That's gotta hurt_, Harry thought, smirking.

* * *

It took more than ten minutes for them to reach the Headmistress' office because the Students vs Raptors battle had spread all over the castle. Wherever they went, spells were flying overhead and Velociraptors were chasing Hogwartians. However, having seen how effective Seamus' plan was, McGonagall appeared not to mind too much now and simply led Harry through all the pandemonium, jinxing the occasional creature that blocked her way.

She heaved a sigh of relief once they were inside the office and gestured at Harry to take a seat.

'Miss Potter, this is a choice that I shall leave entirely up to you,' she said seriously, settling into her high-backed chair. 'But it is something that all the teachers here would like you to agree to.'

Interested at once, Harry leaned forward in her chair. 'What is it, Professor?'

McGonagall contemplated her sternly through her square-framed spectacles. 'You are aware that we are experiencing some ... difficulties in finding a Defense professor at the moment?'

Harry nodded silently, deciding not to voice her suspicions that it was something more than mere _difficulties_.

'Well, we suspect that we cannot get a teacher for a couple more weeks. However, it is vital that the students keep practising the defensive spells that they do know. They should keep practising and improve their skills with the guidance of someone who can tutor them well. Someone with _experience_.' She looked meaningfully at the raven-haired girl.

The implication of her words gave Harry a start. 'Me?' she breathed. 'You want me to tutor the students? As a _teacher_?' It was like starting the DA all over again, but on a much scarier level.

'No, not as a professional teacher,' McGonagall shook her head. 'But as an unofficial mentor. You are not expected to teach them new spells that even you do not know, Potter. Leave that to the Defense teacher when they arrive. But teach them what you do know. Help them improve ... Were you not involved in a similar activity a few years ago?' she added somewhat nonchalantly.

Harry flushed, embarrassed. 'Oh, yes. The DA meetings ... but that was for less than thirty students, Professor! To teach the whole school –!'

'No, Potter, not the whole school,' McGonagall sounded a little exasperated. 'I did not say you will be taking _classes_ for the students. Think of it as an extracurricular activity with you as the instructor. Only those interested will take part. It's not mandatory ... If you're uncomfortable with it,' she added, 'start this as that "DA" again; the only difference is that more students from the Houses would probably join it. You may conduct it where you held your "DA" meetings, too, if you wish.'

Harry worried her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking it over. The DA had been fun and she did miss it, but that had been under completely different circumstances! The DA had been a rebellion; this new "DA" would make her seem like a substitute teacher. Could she do it, though? Teach hundreds of students if they did join it? Harry began to feel a little hot around the collar at the thought of standing in front of nearly the whole school and teaching them all the spells that she knew.

She exhaled slowly through her mouth. 'Can I have some time to think it through, Professor?'

The Headmistress nodded. 'Very well, but I expect an answer tomorrow night at the latest.'

'Yes, Professor.' Harry cleared her throat self-consciously. 'So – so this is only until the real teacher comes?'

'Yes.'

'When would that be, Professor, if you don't mind my asking?'

Professor McGonagall looked shrewdly at her; it was almost as if she knew that Harry was trying to pry some information out of her.

'I'll tell you this much, Potter,' she answered at length. 'We contacted the to-be Defense teacher a few weeks before term started. However, due to certain ... _troubles_, she could not make it in time. And until she can, you are to hold these extra DA sessions if you accept that responsibility.'

Harry nodded casually. 'I see ... what sort of troubles –?'

'That is not your concern.'

Recognising the end of the discussion, Harry merely nodded and got to her feet_. At least I've found out one thing: the Defense professor is a woman_. She would try to get more information later.

'Remember, Potter,' Professor McGonagall said as Harry turned to leave, 'I want your answer by tomorrow night. Oh, and, before I forget...' She handed over a large, rolled up parchment. 'Candidates for the Quidditch team'.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. The parchment was huge; it would probably be over three feet long when she opened it! Had the whole House signed up for the team?

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched slightly. 'Quite a lot of Gryffindors seemed interested in trying out this year,' she said lightly. 'So much so that I could not give you the names last week as I intended to. Do not forget to book the Quidditch pitch, Miss Potter. I have already informed Madam Hooch that you will approach her within the week.'

Harry could only nod dumbly.

'You may leave.'

* * *

Blaise was waiting for Draco at his station during Herbology right after lunch. He grinned at the approaching blond who barely returned the gesture.

'Well? What happened?' Blaise asked eagerly as the students waited for Professor Sprout to arrive. 'Why were you summoned to the Headmistress' office?'

The tiny smile on Draco's face immediately vanished. 'My mother was there,' he answered shortly.

His friend looked surprise. 'Your mother? She came to meet you personally?'

'Yes,' Draco sighed. He could feel himself blushing as recollections of his time with Hariah Potter crowded his mind. 'Blaise, please can we not talk about it now? Perhaps later.'

The brunet immediately looked concerned, but he nodded peaceably. 'If that is what you want. However, I do wish that you had arrived in time for lunch. Seamus Finnegan was up to his ears in mischief today! I'm beginning to rather admire him. He could have given those Weasley twins a run for their money had they been in school this year!'

Draco nodded vaguely. 'Hn, some sort of elemental dinosaurs. Yes, I heard. The gossip here spreads faster than wild forest fires.'

Blaise laughed. 'Yes. I look forward to seeing what he's going to unleash next.'

'Perhaps, you should participate in his mischief like you said you would during the Welcoming Feast,' Draco pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

'And perhaps I would have done so long before this had I not been too preoccupied with worrying over my socially-challenged fool of a best friend.'

_Point taken_. But Draco hated losing, even verbal spars, so he retorted hotly, 'Don't attempt to guilt me into apologising, Blaise. I already have done that.'

'Ah, speaking of guilt, try not to forget to answer your mother's latest letter, Drake,' Blaise said, pulling out an envelope from his bag. 'This arrived during lunch hour. Poor Roenan nearly got licked up by a Velociraptor. I would tell your mother to take that owl to the Magical Menagerie and get him checked over, if I were you.'

Not listening to Blaise' drivel, Draco took the envelope from him and shook out the piece of parchment inside. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline upon reaching the end of his mother's letter.

'I can hardly believe this...' he said in a whisper.

Crocking an eyebrow, Blaise simply stood silently, waiting for Draco to continue.

'My father's sentence is over. The Ministry has released him. And now he wants to meet me to discuss matters of the family business and my _engagement _... but he doesn't know about Hariah Potter yet. Mother hasn't told him.'

Draco lowered the letter just as the door of the greenhouse banged open and Professor Sprout hurried inside, calling a cheerful greeting to her students. He barely noticed her presence as he quickly read through the letter again.

'Blaise. My parents are coming to meet me during the first Hogsmeade visit next weekend ... and Father wants to meet my fiancée.'

* * *

**A/N: See? No cliffhanger. I _can_ be nice, so there! Oh, don't look at me like that; I know a cliffie when I see one and that is not really a cliffhanger. Just a little something for you to wonder about. ;)**

**IMPORTANT QUESTION: OK, I've got two kinds of complaints so far. 1) My chapters are too long, and 2) My chapters are not long enough (WTF?! Somehow, I can't really believe that. Surely, they're long enough??). And then I've got some comments about how some readers actually enjoy the long chapters. In the beginning, I averaged around 5000-7000 words, but the last three chapters were 11000+ words. Now, I can't please everyone, so I'm just going to go with the "majority wins" rule. So, should I shorten the length of my chapters or keep them as they are? Please let me know through a review or a PM.**

**THANK YOU: Firstly, to _Isabelle Eir_ for suggesting the Seamus "creating pseudo-monsters, donning a cape and saving Slytherins from certain fright" scene (which I exaggerated a bit), and secondly to _Plush_ for giving the idea of Harry teaching them Defense (which, again, I twisted around a bit). Thanks so much!**

**Alrighty, there we have it, folks! Please leave a review and/or concrit! XD**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Better and Better? Or Worse and Worse?_  
**


	15. Better and Better? Or Worse and Worse?

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: Five words: School. Tests. Projects. Internet Crashed.**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BETTER AND BETTER? OR WORSE AND WORSE?**

'I am officially exhausted,' Ron moaned as he flopped down on one of the benches in the Great Hall beside Hermione, who had almost fallen asleep at the table.

'Me, too,' Harry agreed wearily, walking up to them. 'And my legs are aching!'

It was past eleven o' clock at night and Harry had just finished doing her part of Seamus' planned "Castle Clean-Up". She had been very surprised to see that over three thirds of the student body had actually volunteered to help the crazy Irishman, who not only had been delighted by their offers of assistance, but had turned the whole affair into another friendship game. He had randomly divided them into pairs consisting of students from different Houses, cuffed the pairs with a binding spell that literally joined their wrists together (Harry did not even want to know where he had learnt the spell), and promised that the three loser pairs that finished cleaning last had a nasty surprise in store for them.

Harry was convinced that his determination to achieve Inter-House Unity was going a little overboard. His game plan felt like the sort of thing that nursery school teachers would assign their bawling toddlers to engage in, for Merlin's sake! But she had to admit that, despite his insanity, Seamus' genius streak was genuine. He certainly had the insight to pair up senior students with younger ones, who had been infected by Seamus' contagious enthusiasm and, thus, had forced the older teens to completely participate.

Harry herself had been paired up with a second year Ravenclaw named Laurence Henson, who had dragged her along the corridors, shrilly screaming '_Scourgify!_' at the mud on the walls much to her amusement. In the end, Harry had given in and worked with the young boy. Not only had it been strangely fun, but, as a bonus, she had pretty much acquired a new friend albeit a rather boisterous one.

Another point for Inter-House Unity. Go Seamus, the bizarre mastermind.

By now, most of the students had finished and were gathering at the Hall where Seamus had earlier assured them that the last three pairs to finish would get their promised "nasty surprise". The binding spells on the students had worn off for the most part though a few still had their wrists adhered to their partners'.

Sitting down beside Ron, Harry yawned and asked tiredly, 'So, when is Seamus going to punish the three pairs of losers? He better make it quick because I really want to sleep now.'

'I dunno,' Ron shrugged, looking longingly at the empty table. 'I'm only waiting for the food.'

'What food?' Hermione asked sleepily, lifting her head to look at him.

'Didn't you hear? Seamus promised hot chocolate and cake for everyone that helps him with the cleaning up. Dean said that he had struck up a deal with the house elves.'

'Hot chocolate and cake?' Harry snorted softly. 'That explains why so many students turned up, then.'

She looked around the Great Hall keenly. The students that had worked there had done a really good job, she observed. There was nothing out of place to hint that a group of Elemental Raptors had wreaked havoc there.

'Well,' she mused out loud, 'at least McGonagall can't put Seamus in detention now. He kept his word.'

Hermione nodded with a jaded smile before abruptly turning to Harry. 'Speaking of Professor McGonagall, why did she take you to her office today, Harry?'

'Yeah,' Ron agreed, looking at his best friend curiously. 'Are you in trouble?'

'Why is it that everyone thinks I'm in trouble whenever I'm taken to the office?' Harry rolled her eyes in exasperation before giving them a wry smile. 'Anyway, you'll never believe this, but ... she as good as told me to start the DA again.'

'Wait, what?! Are you serious?' Ron demanded.

Chuckling, she gave them a brief account of the conversation that had taken place in the Headmistress' office during lunch. By the time she had finished, Ron was grinning madly and Hermione was looking at Harry with sparkling eyes.

'That is an excellent idea!' Ron said excitedly. 'I've been missing the DA so much; it was great! So, are you gonna do it, Harry? You said yes, right? Right?'

Even Hermione looked hopeful.

'I dunno, actually,' Harry shrugged, now frowning. 'I mean, I'd probably have to teach hundreds of students this time and I wouldn't even know how to –'

'Oh no, you don't.' Hermione frowned at the black-haired girl. 'Don't even go there, Harry. You did an excellent job teaching the former DA; you're a natural at it! So, don't you think that you can't teach this new lot.'

'Hermione, we're talking about almost the entire school here! How am I supposed to manage them all? I'm not an experienced teacher.'

'I thought Professor McGonagall said that this isn't going to be an official class?'

'Maybe not, but,' Harry argued, 'I'm supposed to help them improve and –'

'Mate, you helped the old DA members improve so much that they practically became warriors by the end of fifth year,' Ron interrupted, raising his eyebrows. 'Didn't you see how they fought in the War? Like Neville, for example? The bloke helped me take down Fenrir Greyback right before you popped You-Know-Who's clogs. You should've seen the damage he did to that werewolf's eyes! But before the DA, he couldn't even balance on his own two feet!'

'Ron!' said Hermione reproachfully.

'What, it's the truth! All I'm saying is, Harry, you _can_ do it ... If you ask me, I'd say you're just being insecure and shy,' Ron finished with a provocative smirk.

'No, I'm not,' retorted Harry crossly. 'I'm just not sure if I can handle teaching so many of them.'

Ron snorted. 'Well, doesn't that sound bizarre coming from the woman who kicked the arse of the most feared dark wizard since the time of Grindelwald!'

'What – that's .... That's completely different! That's like comparing the First Task to the Yule Ball –!'

'Harry,' Hermione interrupted them firmly, looking both amused and irritated at their nonsense. 'Ron is right.'

The red-head smirked at Harry.

'You did a great job handling thirty students before. I think you'll do fine as a Defence tutor even if this one is on a larger scale than the original DA.'

'You really think so?' Harry asked uncertainly, her brows furrowed.

'I think the real question is, do you _want _to do it, Harry?'

She bit her lip, thinking. The original DA had been one of the best things that had happened to her. It had been the one ray of hope that had kept her going in her fifth year, the promise of rebellion against the blind corruption within the magical community. Along with that, Harry had come to dearly enjoy it. Seeing various students learning new spells under her tutelage, such as Neville finally mastering the Stunning Spell – only a few rare things in life had given her the same satisfaction as that; and, in a way, Harry did want that joy back.

'I ... I suppose,' she answered at length.

'Well, there you have it, then. And I'm sure that you'll be absolutely brilliant at it!'

Harry smiled gratefully at her encouraging words. 'Thanks, Hermione.'

'So, is that all McGonagall wanted?' Ron asked, drumming his fingers on the table top.

'No, she also gave me the list of Gryffindor candidates for the Quidditch team and, I'm telling you, it is bloody long; nearly two hundred names! I'd bet my Firebolt that even some of the first years have sneaked their names in! How else can there be so much?'

'Maybe some of the old firsties that are repeating this year gave their names,' Ron suggested, shrugging. 'They'd be allowed to participate since, technically, they should be in second year now. Ginny and I signed up too, Harry,' he added, looking hopefully at his friend.

'Yes, I saw,' Harry grinned. 'And you two have a fair chance of making it back in ... unless another Cormac McLaggen turns up!' She snorted.

'Shut it, Harry!' Ron scowled at her, injured.

'But of course, if such a one does come to the tryouts, we could always _confound_ him,' Harry continued breezily, this time smirking at Hermione who went red and glared warningly at her.

'Anyway,' Harry went on, now serious, 'we have a little over a month till the first match of the season. So, Ron, Quidditch tryouts this weekend, all right? Spread the word and I'll also put up a notice in the Common Room.'

'OK, but better make it Sunday, Harry. There's a Hogsmeade visit this Saturday.'

'Really?' Harry perked up. 'That's great! It'll be good to get out for a while. OK, Sunday it is, then; at ten thirty on the pitch.'

'Got it.'

Before any more words could be exchanged on the subject, mugs of hot chocolate and platters of cake, éclairs and, oddly enough, French fries appeared on the tables – much to Ron's delight – just as the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Seamus Finnegan, dragging a protesting Dean Thomas by the scruff of his neck, bounced inside followed by five other nervous-looking students.

'All righty, we're done!' He crowed happily as he made his way to the front of the Hall with the others. 'You people are amazing, the castle's spotless! And now, we have the six losers right here awaiting their nasty surprise!' He gestured at Dean and the other five people with a flamboyant wave of his arm. Harry nearly choked on her hot chocolate when she saw that Blaise Zabini, who looked quite calm and mildly amused despite the situation, was also one of the "losers".

_Even _Blaise_ took part in this?_

The remaining students in the Great Hall broke into catcalls and laughter before a chant of 'Pun-ish-ment! Pun-ish-ment!' rose from amongst them. Most of the others were quick to pick it up as well and Harry watched, bemused, as Seamus stepped up to his best friend with a positively diabolical grin on his face.

'Dean, my dear loser,' he said theatrically, 'you ... are done for!'

With that, Seamus picked up a cake from the nearest table and smashed it into the other's face.

* * *

Draco, who stood leaning against the wall of the Great Hall, felt his lips twitch slightly as he watched Blaise coming up to him, covered from head to toe in cake and pie. His friend, however, was not the least bit mortified and beamed at him through his frosting-covered face.

'A food fight?' Draco drawled, glancing at where Seamus Finnegan and some of his admiring followers were cleaning up the food-splattered Great Hall. 'I can't believe that that's the _punishment_ Finnegan gave you and those other "losers". Not only is it immature, but now he has to clean the Hall all over again.'

Blaise shrugged, still grinning. 'He's an eccentric fellow.'

'So I'm seeing. _Scourgify_,' Draco said lazily, pointing his wand at the other Slytherin. In an instant, his robes, hair and exposed skin were clean and free of all the icing, sugar and chocolate.

'Thanks, Draco.'

The blond merely shrugged before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. '_Now_ can we please go back to our dormitory? You dragged me to this little cleaning programme nearly four hours ago; I came, I helped, I _won_, and now I want to go to bed.'

'All right, fine, let's go,' Blaise said with a roll of his eyes, leading the way to the dungeons. 'Though I don't see why you're so irritated, Drake. You've been such an iceberg lately that I thought a little socialising would do you some good. _I_ certainly had fun working with that crazy little Gryffindor kid ... what was his name again? Dennis Creepy, I think.'

Draco snorted contemptuously as they hurried through the winding dungeon corridors. 'Perhaps you had fun, but I didn't!'

'Oh Drake, can't you at least try to loosen up –?'

'I'd like to see if you'd maintain that attitude, Zabini, if _you_ had been the one wrist-bound to that blonde, air-headed Ravenclaw who did less cleaning and more trying to grope my ars–!'

'Hold on a second,' Blaise turned to face him, suddenly grinning widely. 'Would this be that same Ravenclaw who called you "Drakie" in Charms that one time? _You_ got paired up with _her _tonight?!' He laughed disbelievingly before adding, 'But I thought seniors were paired up with younger students? Isn't she in our year?'

Draco scowled. '_Yes_, Blaise, but she's a cunning one. Now you see why I don't appreciate how you physically dragged me down to participate in Finnegan's crazy clean-up scheme! Because, despite what you may think, I don't believe that _socialising_ consists of –'

'Getting molested by a crazy fangirl?'

'Just shut it,' Draco growled, trying to hide his humiliation as he stomped past his friend towards the Slytherin common room.

Blaise followed, snorting with laughter.

Once they had reached their dormitory, Draco let Blaise use the bathroom first to wash off any remaining cake and icing. He settled on the bed and, for lack of anything else better to do till the bathroom was free again, took the letter he had received that day from the bedside table and read it again. It was not exactly from his mother, he had found out a little earlier. Blaise had been mistaken; the letter had actually been sent by Draco's father. Draco, in his sudden panic, had failed to notice the obvious when he had first read it.

He perused the letter for about the tenth time that day. If his father had sent it using their family owl, then he probably was at home now. Also, since Draco's mother had made no mention of it during her stay, Lucius must have arrived at their manor after his wife had left for Hogwarts. Draco frowned in confusion, wondering if his mother had received no prior notification of her husband's release.

With a sigh, Draco pushed the matter out of his mind. He could always ask them later. Besides, there were other more important matters to think about – such as his parents' impending visit. The Slytherin dropped the letter onto his bed and smothered a groan. _Father has such bad timing_, he thought, frustrated. He could have easily handled whatever Lucius had to say about their family businesses, but the thought of his father meeting his fiancée after what had happened only that afternoon ... it made his skin crawl. Not only because he had no idea how Lucius would react to Hariah Potter, but how in the seven circles of Hell was Draco supposed to get Potter to go through with the meeting?

_She won't come_, he thought. Hell, Draco would not be surprised if she ate him alive for even suggesting such a thing.

_Damn woman_.

He rubbed his left cheek which had been steadily turning a blackish purple colour throughout the day; further proof of Potter's unfamiliar strength. It had drawn the attention of some other students as well, but none had dared to ask him how he had gotten injured – probably because he had shot them death glares whenever he caught them gaping. Even Blaise, who had frequently stared at his face with concern that day, had refrained from questioning about it. Draco was glad; the last thing he wanted was to admit that he had been pulverised by a girl – and his own fiancée at that!

Now that his mind was no longer influenced by his hormones, Draco was beginning to feel rather ticked off at Hariah Potter whenever he thought about how she had positively manhandled him. Sure, he could understand why she had been so furious at him – he really should have given an elaborate explanation in his note to her –, but he could not excuse her for attacking him without giving him the chance to explain his actions. Draco scowled at the wall opposite his bed. _She could have at least listened to me!_

Part of the blame, Draco supposed, also lay with his mother. Ever since he had arrived at the Headmistress' office, Narcissa – worried about his strange actions during their Floo chat – had incessantly tried to get him to talk about his engagement (Draco had whole-heartedly appreciated Professor's McGonagall's tactfulness when she had left them alone in her office for three hours. The same, however, could not be said for those darned nosy portraits). Draco had refused to reveal his fiancée's identity or why he was so reluctant about the whole affair despite his mother's pleas. Only when she had assured him that she merely wanted to know who it was, and would leave the decision of actual marriage to Draco and his fiancée, had he agreed to introduce them.

But never had he imagined that Potter would draw the conclusion that he was trying to force her into matrimony! Initially, he had thought her anger was due to his introducing his mother instead of calling off the engagement like she had wanted; he had crushed her hopes, so her fury was to be expected. But _forcing_ her to _marry_ him? The thought had never crossed his mind! And that ... was where his mother was to blame.

_Why did Mother do that?_ He wondered, biting his lip pensively. Narcissa had sounded so sincere with her promises of "just wanting to know who she is"; but when she had finally met Hariah Potter ... the way she had talked! It almost sounded as if his mother had been certain that Potter would end up her daughter-in-law; almost as if she truly _wanted_ Draco to marry her! There had been such guarantee in her tone of voice that even Draco had been somewhat startled at her words.

No wonder Potter had come to the conclusion that she had.

_Still should have given me a chance, though_. _And now Father wants to meet her – right after she nearly killed me for introducing her to Mother. Curse it. _

Draco rubbed his temples, wondering how to get out of the mess. On one hand, he had a duty to his father, but on the other, he could safely assume that he had lost all chance of having even a civilised conversation with Hariah Potter. He did not even want to contemplate marriage at this state!

_Why can't these things just be easy, simple and stupid?_ Draco wondered irritably, only to have that annoying voice in his head point out, _But you wished for a wife that _wouldn't_ bore you, don't you remember?_

Well ... that was a good point. Draco sat up, thinking about the wishes he had made. Yes, he had asked for a woman who would not bore him and, considering all their interactions throughout the years, Potter had proven that she did fall under that particular category. Also, from the dedication and steadfast loyalty she had always shown to her friends, beliefs and actions without the slightest shame, Draco garnered that she also fulfilled his wish of "a girl with morals" and "a girl who would always be there" for him (if she ever gave him a chance, that is).

_But what about the rest?_ What about getting a girl who would actually love him and not his wealth? One with whom he could talk about anything without taboos? A wife with whom he could have a family and who would make him truly happy? Draco could not know if she qualified for all that. True, the ring had chosen her and, apparently, it was never wrong – but what with the bitter past they shared, how could he blindly trust that she was the one for him? Especially considering that, though _he_ had truly wanted her friendship and had practically been obsessed about it, _her_ dislike for him had been painfully real ... and still was.

Anxiety began to set in and he clenched his fists, suddenly feeling desperate. _What am I going to do?_ Having had revealed his true feelings about his fiancée to Blaise earlier, Draco could no longer deny that there was still a part of him that wanted Hariah Potter in a way he had never wanted another person before, but what with the current circumstances, how in all the world was he supposed to –?!

'Draco?'

Startled, Draco looked up to see Blaise, freshly showered and dressed in his pyjamas, standing in front of his bed with a concerned frown on his face.

'Are you all right? You looked like you were having a nervous breakdown just now.'

'I was?' Draco ran a hand through his hair, sighing in vexation. What was wrong with him? He was not one to lose his cool so quickly. Darn it, he seriously needed to get a grip on himself.

'What is with you, Drake?' Blaise demanded, taking a seat beside him. 'Something's been bothering you all day ever since you came back after meeting your mother, I can tell. Does it have something to do with...?' He looked at Draco's bruised face pointedly.

Draco turned to him, ready to assure him that he was fine when he abruptly recalled the words that Blaise had said some days back; about learning more about Potter and _then_ deciding on marriage or not. In his determination to calm his frenzied nerves about the engagement and _not_ think about it, he had temporarily forgotten that conversation with his friend.

Draco hesitated for a moment, unwilling to ask Blaise for advice. It was not because he was embarrassed about it (after confessing his obsession with his rival, there was nothing that could humiliate him any more than that!), but because it felt like a weakness, being unable to sort out his own engagement and deal with the situation himself. But then again, when had anything concerning Hariah Potter been easy?

Giving in, Draco said wearily, 'Blaise, I need to ... ask you about something.'

As Blaise turned to him expectantly, Draco vowed to himself that this would be the last time he would ask for help from his best friend ever again. It was hardly fair that, through such help-and-advice sessions, Blaise was getting more and more blackmail material on Draco without him getting any back. _I can't wait for Blaise to fall in love._ Draco would be sure to rub the horror of it in his face when the day came!

* * *

'Unbelievable!' Hermione stared down at the newspaper in her hands with large, incredulous eyes.

Harry and Ron looked up from their breakfasts at her sudden exclamation. 'What is it?' inquired the latter.

The bushy-haired girl gaped at the front page for several seconds before wordlessly handing over the _Daily Prophet_. Harry accepted it and Ron leaned over her shoulder to read the headlines.

'What?!' The red-head exclaimed while Harry simply gaped at the paper. 'Lucius Malfoy – released by the Ministry? Is this a joke? What the bloody hell were they thinking?! He's a proven Death Eater!'

'I know,' Hermione said as she reached to take the _Prophet_ back. 'I can't believe it, either. It's only been a few months; I thought his sentence would last much longer! Surely Kingsley wouldn't have allowed this.' Frowning, she began to read through the article silently, murmuring some of the parts out loud while Harry and Ron listened keenly.

'"_Released early yesterday morning" ... "sentence over" ... "on probation for four months" ... "rumours of Mr Malfoy losing his Lordship over the prestigious family" ... "Malfoy couple unavailable for comment"_ ... Merlin, Harry, they even mention you! About how you defended him in court.'

Harry raised her eyebrows. 'Only by extension. I was vouching more for Narcissa.'

'Hardly matters here, Harry. They're making it sound like he's been let off so easily because _you_ said he's innocent.'

'Say what?' snorted Ron at the same time when Harry snapped, 'Excuse me?! I did not say he's innocent! I only gave my word as a witness that the Malfoys dropped their allegiance to Voldemort during the War. It doesn't mean that he _wasn't_ a filthy murderer!'

'Calm down, Harry,' Hermione said gently. 'The _Prophet_ doesn't exactly say that it was because of you; they just make it sound like that...'

'And how is that any better?' The black-haired witch demanded. 'Regardless of what _I_ said, Lucius Malfoy deserves more than a few months in prison after everything he's done! Hell, Hermione, I only said that the Malfoys should not be given the death sentence, not that they should be let off this easily; especially Lucius! Narcissa and Draco seem all right now, but Lucius has always been more evil than the other two!'

Withholding a shudder, Harry recalled the time when they had been captured and hauled off to Malfoy Manor. She could still remember how eager Lucius had been to summon Voldemort to please his master; his wife and son had certainly not been like that.

'Hmm,' Hermione folded up the newspaper carefully. 'Maybe Kingsley thought it was enough for Lucius. I mean,' she added quickly upon seeing the looks on Harry and Ron's faces, 'he might have been given a very severe penalty! Maybe a few months were sufficient.'

'So, you're saying that, in just a short time, Lucius Malfoy has been reformed and is being released into society?' Ron drawled sceptically.

'Well ... he's on probation.'

'Thank you, Hermione. Hearing that has greatly comforted me.'

'Sarcasm is not helpful here, Ron –!'

'I just hope Kingsley knows what he's doing,' Harry interrupted their bickering. 'I still don't think that Lucius can be trusted.'

'I'm with you on that, Harry. So, maybe we should give him a warning,' Ron suggested, attempting a light-hearted joke. 'You know, make it clear to him exactly what we'll do if he goes back to being a Death Eater. '

Harry snorted, pushing away her toast. 'No thanks, Ron. The last thing I want is to meet Lucius Malfoy, let alone talk to him. I've had enough of Malfoys to last me a lifetime, thanks very much.' Her brows furrowed and warmth flooded her cheeks when the unwelcome recollection of her last episode with Draco Malfoy came to mind. 'Oh yes, I've had enough ...'

* * *

'Bloody reporters,' Draco muttered, carelessly folding up the _Daily Prophet_. 'They always make such a fuss about the smallest thing. And now the whole Wizarding World will be talking about it. The gossip's already started here,' he added with a discreet glance at a bunch of his fellow Slytherins sitting a few seats away. Many of them were constantly peeking around at him and whispering together over the newspaper they were sharing.

Blaise chuckled as he loaded his plate with toast and eggs. 'Well, of course it has, Drake. After all, your father's release hardly counts as a small thing.'

The blond snorted quietly as he turned to look up at the huge windows of the Great Hall. The morning post would arrive soon. Blaise noticed where he was gazing at.

'Expecting a letter?'

'Yes,' Draco answered shortly. Now that his mother knew about Lucius' release, he was quite sure that she would write to him about it despite knowing that his father had already done so. Tapping his fingers on the table impatiently, Draco continued gazing at the windows eagerly before he realised a few seconds later that he was being stared at. Looking around, he was met with Blaise' calculating eyes.

'Yes?' He crocked an eyebrow. 'Is something wrong?'

His friend looked a little uncertain. 'Nothing, Draco. I was just ... just wondering how you were doing.'

Draco blinked, surprised. 'What do you mean? I'm fine, Blaise. I'm ...' he trailed off, suddenly understanding what Blaise was talking about. 'Oh ... you meant ...'

An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments before Blaise ventured, 'Yes, well, I was worried. I mean, you looked a little unwell last night when ...'

Draco coughed slightly. 'I'm fine, Blaise. And trust me, your ... eh, _recommendations_ last night about ... er, the whole thing was quite helpful. Thank you for that. And – and no need to worry about me. I'll have this sorted out.'

Blaise looked sceptically at him. 'Fine. Just remember, the important thing is that you need to approach Harry the right way –'

'Yes, I remember,' Draco interrupted, louder than necessary, flushing slightly. Damn, it had been hard enough confiding his latest list of Hariah Potter related problems to Blaise the night before; it was even more awkward to mention it again.

'Oh, all right, then,' Blaise said lightly, turning away. There was just a hint of a grin on his face; no doubt he was getting a kick out of his best friend's obvious discomfort, as always. Draco rolled his eyes at him.

However, he honestly did appreciate Blaise' concern and readiness to lend a helping hand. His friend had mutely listened to Draco's greatly condensed narration of his time with his mother and fiancée, wasted a few minutes to tell him off to kingdom come ('What the hell, Malfoy, you bloody _moron_?! You forced her through meeting-the-in-laws drill without even warning her? Well, no wonder she beat you to the next millennium!'), sympathised with him when Draco had briefly explained his actions, and then had proceeded to give him a little advice on how to rectify his mistake. Blaise could not tell him much on account of not knowing Potter well enough, but being a perceptive person, he had picked up a few things about her and based his opinions on them.

Draco was both grateful and a little envious. Grateful because, thanks to Blaise, he now had a game plan of sorts on how to approach her, and envious because...

_Blaise has never in his life even talked to her before this year, and yet ... he knows more about her than I've ever learned these past several years, and she's as comfortable in his company as she is with Weasley and Granger ... Hell, she even lets him call her "Harry", for Merlin's sake!_

It was a rather depressing thought, really. Here he was, engaged to Hariah Potter, his rival of seven years and whose heart he was struggling to win over. And then there was Blaise Zabini, who could happily and freely chatter away with Potter, his Potions' partner of ... what, one month? Honestly, even Blaise had a greater chance of winning her love than he, Draco, did! Where was the justice in that?

'Feeling all right, Drake?' Blaise asked abruptly, seeing the frown on his face.

'Yes. Just thinking,' Draco said quickly, assuming a neutral expression. When Blaise had looked away again, Draco released a quiet sigh and pushed the thoughts away. There was no point in losing himself in jealousy if he were to at least get Potter to have a decent conversation with him; or to "approach her the right way", as Blaise had put it.

In fact, he already knew the first thing he had to do: lay low and give her time to cool down. There was no way he could even get within a twenty-foot radius of her unless she had her temper controlled. Though he did wonder how long that would take...

Thoughtfully, Draco glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Potter and her two sidekicks were poring over a newspaper and talking among themselves. With a start, he realised that they were probably discussing his father's release from prison, which in turn reminded him –

_Father will be here in a week. _He fought down the nervousness that filled him at the thought. Honestly, was there even a remote chance that Hariah Potter would cool down by that time to agree to go to Hogsmeade with him?

Almost as if she had heard his unspoken question, Potter suddenly looked up right at him. His mouth went dry at the sight of her eyes; despite the distance, he could practically see them flashing with cold fury at him.

_Not bloody likely_, he answered his own question weakly, looking round dolefully at Roenan that had just alighted on his arm, Narcissa's anticipated letter attached to his leg.

* * *

When the first weekend of October finally arrived, Harry decided that it had been quite a good week. Her temporary post as an unofficial DADA teacher had already been finalised, Professor McGonagall had put up notices in all Common Rooms to invite students to participate in the new "DA", the Quidditch Pitch had been booked, homework was minimal (which was quite a shocker) and Blaise had assured her that, despite her setting their cauldron on fire, the Verita Potion was still in a condition good enough to garner them at least an A grade when finished. Oh yes, she had had a nice, normal week and Harry absolutely refused to ruminate on any past occurrences that could ruin her mood; especially past occurrences involving a certain someone...

Now, all that she needed to top everything off was a peaceful day of relaxation with no worries, which of course meant:

'First Hogsmeade visit today!' Ron exclaimed happily when Harry and Hermione joined him in the Gryffindor Common Room on Saturday morning. 'I can't wait! I need to get to Zonko's for a refill!'

He was not the only one hyped up over the trip, either. The Great Hall rang with the excited chatter of students during breakfast, and even Harry was almost dancing on her toes as, afterwards, they stood in line in the Entrance Hall while Filch checked their names off from a piece of parchment.

'Oh, it feels so good to get out of the castle!' said Hermione happily as soon as they were on their way.

'Yes, doesn't it?' Harry agreed, breathing in the fresh Autumn air deeply. She was grinning madly, so much so that if a stranger were to look at her face, they might have thought her a lunatic. But the truth was, this particular trip to Hogsmeade felt like a whole new experience. Most of her trips to the village had always been shadowed with fear or the War or some other strange disturbance, but during this visit – which was her first after the War – Harry was hoping to experience what it would be like to just wander about the village like any other student with no peculiar or unwelcome events occurring. A _normal _trip, to put it simply.

The walk to Hogsmeade did not seem to take as long as it usually did and, soon, they had had arrived at their destination.

'So, where to first?' Ron asked eagerly. He was looking around at the little shops and quaint cottages with sparkling eyes, almost like that of a little child's. Harry felt the same.

'Let's go around the shops first,' Hermione suggested. 'And maybe the Shrieking Shack, too. Then we can go to The Three Broomsticks before heading back.'

'Perfect,' Harry grinned and took off down the main road, resisting the urge to skip. Beside her, her best friends looked almost as happy as she did. She vaguely wondered if they, too, had realised that this was actually an ordinary trip – which was a first for them.

'Come on,' Ron said, pointing at a familiar shop. 'Honeydukes first!'

'Yes,' Harry said at once, smiling widely. 'I need chocolate!' And this time, she wanted them for the sole joy and pleasure of eating chocolate; not because she needed to neutralise the after effects of a Dementor attack or fighting a Boggart pretending to be a Dementor. Yes, she was going to make this visit to Hogsmeade as fun-filled and normal as possible. She wanted that much, at least.

Harry's enthusiasm only increased as the day slowly passed. They took over an hour in Honeydukes, good-naturedly arguing over what sweets they should buy, and then the trio visited every place there was to be visited. Another hour was spent in Zonko's where Hermione disapprovingly breathed down their backs as Harry and Ron tried to choose from a variety of joke products, and then they moved onto see the multi-coloured owls in the Post Office, peeked into The Hog's Head where Aberforth Dumbledore spared them a curt nod before returning to his customers, and they finally spent a few minutes at the Shrieking Shack where they stood in silence, mutely remembering Lupin and Sirius. At length, they turned to head back to the village and it was late afternoon by the time they had arrived at the main road.

'There's just enough time for us to have some butterbeer before returning to the castle,' Hermione said, checking her watch.

'Let's go, then,' said Ron, leading the way to The Three Broomsticks. 'I'm parched.'

Harry followed, smiling contentedly. For once, it seemed that everything was prepared to go the way she wished them to without any peculiar happenings. Or at least, that was how she was feeling before Ron pushed the door open and the noise from inside nearly knocked her off her feet.

'What the hell ...?'

* * *

'Are you done yet?' Draco asked wearily as he waited for his best friend to finish choosing between a jar of Cockroach Clusters and another one of blood-flavoured lollipops. Behind them, Honeydukes was crowded with Hogwarts students, but thankfully, not many wandered to the Unusual Tastes section where the two Slytherins were; obviously, they did not have such _unusual_ tastes in sweets like Blaise Zabini did.

'Be patient,' the aforementioned Slytherin admonished, still weighing the two jars in his hands. 'These two are my favourites.'

'So, buy both of them,' Draco suggested impatiently, unwrapping one of the Chocolate Frogs he had bought and popping it into his mouth before it could leap away.

'I would, but I want some butterbeer as well so I can't afford both ... I forgot to refill my money bag before coming,' he explained further when he saw the blond gaping at him.

'I thought _you _were supposed to be the more responsible one.' Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise ignored him and turned back to the sweets. Another five minutes of indecision passed before Draco, finally losing his patience, beckoned a shop assistant over and asked her to pack both of them.

'I'm paying,' Draco said firmly when Blaise began to protest. 'Consider it an early Christmas gift. You won't be getting any more from me this year.'

After a moment of hesitation, Blaise gave in. 'Fair enough. Thank you,' he said with a weak grin, following the assistant to the counter. While they waited for the girl to ring up their purchase, Blaise turned to Draco and asked in a low voice, 'By the way, I thought you were supposed to meet your parents today?'

Stiffening slightly, Draco nodded.

'Yes, but they're arriving at half past two. I still have ...' He checked his watch, 'more than thirty minutes left. We're meeting at The Three Broomsticks,' he added before Blaise could ask.

'What? The Three – but are you sure? That place is going to be crowded! You'll have no privacy –'

'They have private parlours.'

'Do they?'

'Well, my mother said so in her last letter,' Draco shrugged.

'I see ...' Blaise hesitated for a second before cautiously venturing, 'So, have you ... er, how do I say it – persuaded Harry to meet you –?'

Draco flushed bright red. 'I ... er, well; you see ... I haven't yet –'

He quickly stopped speaking when the assistant, who was currently placing the blood-flavoured lollipops in a small bag, suddenly froze and stared at him, recognition flickering in her eyes. Draco swallowed a groan, wondering if she was thinking about his family's escape from the gallows, or his mysterious engagement, or his father's release from prison, or all three. Unwanted fame really was a bothersome thorn-in-the-side!

The girl blushed when Draco raised an eyebrow and returned her gaze with disdain. 'Two galleons and three sickles,' she stammered, avoiding his eyes as she quickly finished her duty.

Draco wordlessly paid for the sweets and hurried away from the counter without waiting for his friend. A part of him was somewhat thankful that the assistant had not directly said anything to him, but it was still exasperating to have people recognise him and act awkward (or drool over him, as in the case of fangirls).

'What was that about?' Blaise asked when he had caught up to the blond. Digging into his paper bag, he took out a piece of Cockroach Cluster and took a small nibble, closing his eyes in bliss.

Draco wrinkled his nose and hastily turned his face the other way. 'Blaise, that is disgusting! Just eat that thing when I'm not around.'

Blaise looked directly at Draco and popped the rest into his mouth, chewing loudly and making a show of swallowing as slowly as possible before continuing as if there had been no interruption, 'Seriously, Drake, you nearly caused that poor girl to hyperventilate! Now, I know that you're not the socialising type, but you could at least attempt a little common courtesy –'

'It would be nice if people did not gawk at others simply because their photographs were splashed all over the newspapers!' Draco retorted as they stepped out of Honeydukes into the bright afternoon sun. 'What business is it of theirs whom I marry or what my family is going through or – or ...' He sighed as he ran out of words to rant.

Blaise looked at him in surprise, but kept tactfully silent.

As they began to walk up the main road, Draco ventured in a quieter tone, 'I really hate it when people stare at me, because I know that they're just thinking and forming their own opinions about things that concern my family alone. Like that girl back there, she was looking at me and probably thinking about my father's release or my engagement or ... Ugh, it just gets on my nerves,' he muttered, irritably running his fingers through his hair. 'It makes me feel like I'm some sort of freak on display.'

Blaise looked at him silently. His eyes held a hint of sympathy, but for the most part, they were thoughtful. When his friend continued to gaze at him, Draco asked uncertainly, 'What is it, Blaise?'

'I was just thinking ... well, all this sudden publicity is obviously a pain for you and ... I was wondering if your fiancée feels exactly the same way about _her _situation.'

Draco blinked, startled at what Blaise had said. Huh. He had never thought of Hariah Potter that way.

_Her fame started when she was just a baby,_ he thought with a contemplative frown. Every witch and wizard in the magical world knew her name and stories about her had been cropping up in the _Daily Prophet_ ever since she began at Hogwarts; and not all of them had been full of idolizing praises either.

However, he had never really thought about how she actually _felt_ about being so famous. As a young boy, he had simply assumed that she enjoyed being pampered and making the front page with Gilderoy Lockhart and whatnot; but Blaise' unexpected comment had put things into a whole new perspective.

_Does she really feel the same way as I do?_

_

* * *

_

'What – what's going on?' Harry asked, disoriented as she gazed around The Three Broomsticks.

The place was noisier than she could recall it ever being, and it would hardly be a lie to say that nearly all the students of Hogwarts and residents of Hogsmeade had squeezed into the pub. At the bar, the curvy and pretty Madam Rosmerta was busy serving her customers, all of whom seemed to be clapping and singing along to...

Looking around, Harry finally saw a tiny podium on one side of the pub on which a band of wizards was playing a merry and upbeat jig. Erected right next to them was a small wooden stage and Harry watched, bemused, as men and women joyously danced to the lively music. A few bold Hogwarts students had joined them and their laughter and cheers were thick in the air.

'What's the occasion?' Harry murmured, her voice lost in the din.

Her question was answered when Hermione tapped a nearby middle-aged man on the shoulder and loudly asked in his ear, 'Excuse me, sir, but what is this celebration all about?'

The wizard beamed jovially down at her and shouted over the noise, ''Tis the celebrations we been holdin' here every weeken' since the War, m'dear! T' rejoice the downfall o' You Know Who and honour the Chosen 'Un's victory, see?'

'Oh.'

Biting back their grins, Ron and Hermione turned to Harry who had quickly ducked her head when the man had mentioned her unofficial title. Warmth flooded her cheeks and her appetite for butterbeer slowly disappeared. Celebrations to honour her? At the pub – every weekend? Well, so much for a normal day with no Chosen One or Voldemort related business.

Harry, somewhat flattered and embarrassed simultaneously, was just on the verge of making a dash for the door when Ron grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards Madam Rosmerta.

'Come on, Harry,' he said with a smirk as they made their way through the whooping mob (where Harry could see Seamus Finnegan practically dancing in his chair). 'We came here for the butterbeer and we're not leaving without it.'

'You're just trying to torture me,' Harry grumbled as Hermione followed them, laughing softly.

Ron grinned at her as they reached the crowded bar and waved at Madam Rosmerta who, after serving a pair of boisterous Hufflepuffs, turned to them with a pretty smile.

'Welcome back, my dears,' she said loudly over the music, recognising them from their earlier visits. 'Here for some butterbeer?'

'Yes. Three, please,' Ron answered, blushing slightly as the landlady looked at him. Hermione scowled at seeing his flustered face, and shot Rosmerta a rather resentful look that fortunately went unnoticed.

'So, ma'am,' Ron began uncertainly, making an attempt at conversation while Madam Rosmerta poured out their drinks, 'some bloke mentioned that you hold these ... er ...' He gestured at the band and dancers, '... every weekend?'

Harry squirmed uncomfortably and Ron tightened his grip on her hand.

'Yes,' Madam Rosmerta answered him with a brilliant smile. 'It was old Crawford's idea, though. Isn't that right, Mr Crawford?' she added kindly to an elderly, white-haired man seated on a stool right next to Ron.

'That's right,' the man agreed pompously, turning to face the three Gryffindors. 'That God-forsaken filthy _Dark Lord_ and his cutthroat band of devils killed off my entire family, they did! My entire family! From my sick pa to my youngest lad, I tell you!' He angrily shook his fist so hard that Ron hastily stepped away from him, bumping into Harry and Hermione.

'So,' Mr Crawford continued, breathing hard, 'yeh can imagine how happy I was when young Potter finally did away with the bastard.'

'Er, yes,' Ron said, shooting a discreet glance at Harry who was determinedly drinking from the tankard of butterbeer that Madam Rosmerta had placed in front of her.

'Ecstatic, I was. Ecstatic! I woulda danced on his grave if I got the chance! But I couldn't, see? So, I said to Rosmerta one day, I said, "We oughta pay fair tribute to that Potter lass for sending the goddamn bastard to Hell! We should remember all them lost souls and rejoice that our world's been purged from that accursed plague!" And so I suggested this,' he finished, nodding his head at the band of wizards that had just finished their song. The dancers on the stage bowed and the The Three Broomsticks echoed with applause and cheers.

'So, whaddaya have to say about that, eh?' The old man grunted at Ron.

'Well, er ...' trailed off Ron, unable to think of anything to say.

'I think it's very thoughtful of you, Mr Crawford,' Hermione supplied helpfully, accepting her drink from Madam Rosmerta. 'It's a wonderful opportunity for people to get together and strengthen their relationships with each other. And of course, to ... um, honour the Chosen One,' she added, smiling slightly at Harry who pointedly took another gulp of her drink.

'Aye. Thankee, lass,' Crawford nodded at Hermione. 'And d'you think the Chosen One woulda appreciated it?'

'I'm sure she does,' Hermione said laughingly, now looking directly at her best friend.

Having no choice, Harry lowered her butterbeer and smiled at Mr Crawford whose eyes widened with recognition; he slammed his tankard of mulled claret on the bar.

'Well, bless me lonely soul! If it ain't Hariah Potter herself!'

Harry winced as his exclamation rang throughout the pub. Now that the band had finished their song, his voice reached the ears of every person present and their attention turned towards the bar in unison.

Her cheeks coloured at feeling the eyes of everyone on her, but she forced herself to speak nonetheless. 'Yes, it's very nice to meet you, Mr Crawford,' Harry said politely, holding out her hand to the elderly man who grasped it eagerly. 'And – and, yes, I'm very flattered at what you've got going here. Thank you,' she added, glancing at the podium where the wizard band was gawking at her.

'So honoured I am, lass,' Mr Crawford said, shaking her hand vigorously. 'And no, I oughta be the one thanking _you_ for riddin' us of –'

'Vol – You Know Who, yes,' Harry finished for him with a small smile. 'It was my pleasure to do it, sir.'

'Aye, and it's our pleasure to have yeh with us today. Ain't that right, lads?' He roared at the on looking crowd. His shout was answered with an overwhelming response of 'Yeah's and hoots. Harry could see many of her schoolmates grinning at her. Seamus Finnegan's dazzling teeth, in particular, stood out.

'Been waiting aeons to thank yeh meself, lass. Aeons!' Crawford continued fervently. 'And now here y'are, right with us in the middle of our shindig!'

'Wasn't expecting it myself, sir' Harry said, beginning to laugh a little. Though still embarrassed, the festive atmosphere and Mr Crawford's enthusiasm were taking their hold on her.

The old man gave a deep, heartfelt laugh. 'Aye. Well, I offer me gratitude, also on behalf of me folks up there in Heaven, lucky blighters –'

'Ah, you're welcome, Mr Crawfo –'

'And, now that yer here, migh' we request that yeh partake in our merrymakin'?' He finished, grandly waving an arm at the now empty stage. 'It'd bring great joy t'us!'

Harry felt her smile slide off her face faster than her enthusiasm did. _Partake? Does he mean...? Oh no_.

With a nervous chuckle, she took a step back. 'Thank you, sir, but no. I prefer to watch –'

Mr Crawford opened his mouth to protest, but Ron beat him to the punch. 'Aw, go on, Harry,' he smirked, nudging her arm. 'They've been holding these in your honour every weekend! You don't want to disappoint them, do you?'

Harry shot him a glare. 'Ron, I'm going to kill –!'

'It's not a big deal, Harry,' Hermione cut across her. She looked like she was biting back a smile. 'Just go let your hair down.'

Harry gaped at her. _Hermione, you too?!_

While Harry stood, speechless, Crawford turned and bellowed at the band, 'Well, what yeh waitin' for, eh? Get them fiddles goin', lads!'

At his command, the men on the podium began playing again. It seemed to Harry that their new song was even livelier and upbeat than the one she had heard before.

'Go on, then, Harry.' Ron gave her a push while Crawford looked expectantly at her.

Horribly aware of everyone still looking at her, Harry stood her ground. 'You can't be serious! You can't –!'

Her protest was cut off by a yell of, 'Come on, Potter! Show us what you can do!' from the crowd. This was followed by more shouts of encouragement and persuasion. Harry could see Ginny Weasley, who was seated quite close to the stage, waving at her and whooping with everyone else. Behind her, Hermione was biting her lip and Ron was openly laughing while cajoling her to get up on the small stage.

'Please, Ron,' she moaned. 'I can't go up there and dance alone or –'

Once more she was cut off, but this time from a voice that sounded right in her ear: 'Come on, mate! It'll be fun!'

With that, Harry felt someone grab her arm and yank her towards the stage much to the enjoyment of everyone else. Ron smoothly tugged her tankard out of her grip as she was pulled away.

'Seamus!' Harry exclaimed when she saw who was dragging her along.

The sandy-haired teen shot her an overjoyed grin over his shoulder. 'Hey, Harry! You up for some wild and pure dancing?'

'No!' Harry tried to free her hand in vain. 'You've got to be joking!'

'Nope.'

Seamus leapt onto the stage and Harry had no choice but to follow. The cheers and laughter grew impossibly louder as the Irishman pulled the unwilling Chosen One close into an outrageous pose.

Harry stared up at him with incredulous eyes and Seamus grinned back wolfishly. 'Hang onto those glasses, Harry.'

_Merlin save me_, was all that Harry could think.

* * *

At five minutes to two thirty, Draco arrived at The Three Broomsticks with Blaise. Both the Slytherins were bewildered at all the chaos inside, but Draco had no time to investigate the cause and headed for the private parlours at the back of the inn, leaving Blaise behind in the hubbub.

The small hallway leading to the private rooms was guarded by a tall, friendly-looking man who gave Draco a brief once-over and asked for his name.

'Draco Malfoy,' he answered impatiently. 'I'm here to meet –'

'Ah, yes, the Malfoy heir,' the man interrupted breezily. He pointed to the corridor. 'Second door to your left. Mr and Mrs Malfoy are waiting.'

A little unnerved that his parents had already arrived, Draco quickly hurried inside and pushed open the door the guard had mentioned. It led to a small, but comfortable room with a carpeted floor, walls panelled with wood and a disproportionately large fireplace in front of which was a sofa and two armchairs around a tiny coffee table. Apart from a small desk pushed into a corner, the room had no other furniture.

Lucius and Narcissa were comfortably seated on the sofa when Draco came in. They looked around at his entrance and he hesitated on the threshold, feeling a little anxious at the thought of what the meeting entailed. Only when his mother, with a soothing smile, gestured at him to come closer did he move away from the door, quietly shutting it behind him.

'Father, Mother.'

His parents rose at his approach and Draco held out a hand to his father who grasped it briefly. Lucius' grip was weaker than Draco remembered and, as he took in his father's appearance, he could see why. Prison, and whatever sentence that he had been forced to suffer, had deprived Lucius Malfoy of many of his physical traits. His figure had lost most of his dominating dignity and not even his immaculate robes could restore it. His face had thinned and was gaunt with hollow cheeks and weary eyes that still struggled to radiate some form of superiority. Gone was the strength of his body and only his pride kept him standing tall and upright. He did not look like his old self at all.

'Are you well, Draco?' Lucius asked curtly, sizing him up critically as they sat down again.

Having been exposed to this examination every time he had come home from Hogwarts, Draco simply nodded, some of his earlier worries already abating. 'Yes, thank you, Father. And yourself?'

Lucius grimaced. 'Better, now that I am out of that filthy –' He stopped at the disapproving look Narcissa shot him and rephrased his words, 'now that I'm with my family again.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. That was a strange phrase coming from his father.

Narcissa, however, was all smiles. 'Yes. Imagine my surprise when I came home after leaving you, Dragon, only to see that my husband was home again!' She gave Lucius a fond look and Draco felt his heart lift at seeing his mother so happy.

He was surprised, however, when Lucius returned her look with a small smile of his own. His father was not one to freely show compassion to people, even to his own wife, in the presence of others. What had changed him?

Pushing the matter out of his mind for the moment, Draco asked, 'So, they have released you for good, Father?'

'Not yet. I am on probation.'

'Oh, right,' Draco muttered, remembering the article in the _Prophet_.

'However,' Lucius continued, 'I shall be free if, for the next four months, I "be a good little boy" to put it in the words of my probation officer.' His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Draco did not know whether to laugh or faint from shock. He could have sworn that Lucius had just made an attempt at a joke; his mother was certainly chuckling at her husband's words. Not knowing how to react, Draco settled for helping himself to a cup of tea from the set on the coffee table.

'Well, that is good to know,' Narcissa said amusedly. 'Don't you agree, Dragon?'

'Er ... yes.' Draco nodded uncertainly.

'Speaking of my probation,' Lucius said, taking on the business-like tone that Draco was more familiar with, 'the Ministry has assigned me to work in one of their departments till the end of my test to _keep an eye on me_.' His voice was sarcastic again and Draco got the feeling that his father was quoting from his probation officer once more. 'Thus, _I _cannot keep _my eye_ on our family businesses and so, since you're of age now, that responsibility falls to you, Draco.'

'But, Father, I am still in school –'

'That is of no consequence,' Narcissa said assuredly. 'Though you hold the responsibility, Dragon, I can take care of everything in your name until you graduate. From then on, you can take up your part actively.'

Draco nodded in understanding.

'The Ministry has already looked over all our businesses,' Lucius said, a frown coming on to his thin face. 'And I must confess that they have discovered some of our more ... disreputable business transactions.'

'Business transactions that I have been continuously telling you to halt,' interjected Narcissa rather coldly. 'For years, Lucius. Years! And I believe that they are the reason why your sentence, though short, was so severe?'

Her husband had the grace to look a little shamefaced. 'Yes. But I have already broken those deals, Narcissa –'

'The Ministry broke them for you!'

'– and I intend to break the business contracts that the Ministry has not come across yet.'

Narcissa looked at him with narrowed eyes, both hopeful and a little suspicious. 'Do you?'

Lucius nodded. 'Yes. Do you agree with my decision, Draco?'

'Absolutely,' his son answered without hesitation. He understood that if the Malfoys were to walk the path of Light, then all their notorious partnerships would have to be thrown aside. _Besides_, Draco mused, _our family can stay afloat without them_. He knew that well enough.

'Well, then,' Narcissa was saying, her happiness unmasked in her voice and expression, 'I am glad.'

Lucius gave her another tiny smile.

'Is that all you wanted to tell me about our business matters?' Draco asked, taking a sip of his tea.

'Yes, and no.' Lucius cleared his throat and Draco gazed at him, puzzled. 'You see, Draco, due to my earlier actions as a ... Death Eater and also because of our family's involvement in the disreputable businesses I've mentioned, the Ministry has ...' He trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Draco looked at his father, concerned. 'What is wrong, Fa –?'

'The Ministry feels that your father is no longer fit to be the Head of our family,' Narcissa said abruptly, filling in for Lucius' silence.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. 'What?' Draco exclaimed, outraged. 'How can they decide that? It is our family matter, not theirs!'

'That is correct,' Narcissa nodded. 'But the Head is to whom all responsibilities of the family and our businesses fall to and, since the government feels that your father is not suitable for such responsibilities, Lucius believes that it would be more beneficial to us if he stepped down. For, you see, our partnerships will go down if the Lord of the family is labelled unreliable and dishonest.'

'How can they label –?!'

'Because, under my lordship, our family has dabbled in such scandalous contracts, Draco,' Lucius said wearily. 'This will not stay quiet. Already all the Wizarding World knows that we were the Dark Lord's servants and that I played a greater role than both of you did, and they will find out that I expanded our businesses by illegal means. My name is tainted and no longer trustworthy, Draco. I cannot keep our family afloat as its Head anymore.'

'But – but you're on probation!' Draco protested. 'Father, you still have a chance –!'

'A chance to be a free man in four months,' Lucius said quietly. His lips were curled up in a small, sad smile. 'But, by then, people will already know all about this. And no honest businessman would want to trade with me –'

'And over my corpse will this family trade in the black market again,' Narcissa added, folding her arms across her chest.

'I see,' Draco said, disheartened. 'So, you're stepping down, Father?'

'Yes. And you are to take my place.'

'What?' Draco stared in disbelief.

'You are of age, Draco, and you are the one who can now keep our family on the straight and narrow, to use the common phrase,' Lucius said quietly. His tired eyes held a spark of pride as he gazed at his son.

'We are here to help and offer advice when you need it, Dragon,' Narcissa said kindly, seeing his uncertain expression. 'And you only need to assume full responsibility after you graduate, of course. But we ask you to take on the official title now itself. People do not need to know about it right at this moment, if that is what's worrying you,' she added.

Draco sat without speaking for a few seconds. It was not a big choice to make, really. He had always known he would become the Head someday and his father had prepared him for it, teaching him about their partnerships and everything else he needed to know. But he was still taken aback, being faced with it so soon.

'Draco?' His mother prompted.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded at last. 'Very well.'

Lucius gave him an unreadable look and then pulled off a ring that rested on the middle finger of his left hand. Draco's mouth went dry as his father handed it over. He accepted it with hesitant fingers and took a moment to examine it.

The Malfoy signet ring; made of pure silver and decorated with a large, cut star sapphire bearing the Malfoy crest with no other decorations. He could still not believe that it was his now.

Narcissa was watching him with an amused smile. 'We'll hold a proper celebration for you once you finish school, Dragon,' she said in a rather teasing tone.

Draco flushed and hastily put the ring on. It gleamed from its place beside his engagement ring.

_Head of the family_, he thought, feeling a little weak.

'Well,' Narcissa spoke up cheerily, 'Now that that is done and over with, let's move on to more pleasant matters. Where is your fiancée, darling? Your father has been pestering me nonstop to reveal her name.'

Draco looked up quickly, startled at the sudden change in conversation. His parents were both looking expectantly at him.

'Oh, well ... I ...'

'You did bring her along, didn't you?' Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'I did request a meeting with her today in my letter to you. Is she waiting for us outside, perhaps?'

Draco could feel every drop of his blood rising to his face. It was probably redder than his mother's gleaming nail polish. 'No,' he stammered. 'No, she – she isn't here, Father, but –'

'Why?' asked Lucius, frowning. 'Did she not agree to meet us?'

His son shook his head quickly. 'No, that's not it, Father.'

'What then, Draco?'

'I ... you see ...' He sighed helplessly. 'I did not ask her to come.' Draco looked away, shamefaced. He had known that Potter would not agree until he got her to accept that she had misunderstood his intentions, but for her to even listen to him would take a while. Honestly, her meeting his father was out of the question for the moment. But he did not know how to get his parents to accept that fact...

'What?' His mother was saying, surprised. 'Why not, Draco?'

'She wouldn't have come even if I had asked,' he answered dully.

Lucius did not look pleased. 'How could you know that, Draco, if you had not tried –?'

'Trust me, Father. She wouldn't have come; and I know this,' he added more loudly so as not to be interrupted, 'because she has yet to accept me after her second rejection.'

Silence reigned in the parlour at his words. Both his parents were gazing at him, nonplussed.

'Yes, it's true,' Draco said dejectedly. 'And she won't listen nor speak to me, unless I was to tell her that I'm calling off our engagement.'

'Will you really do that?' His mother demanded anxiously, reminding Draco of how eager she had been when his fiancée had been introduced to her.

'I ... no ... at least, not yet,' Draco said uncertainly. To be honest, he still was unsure whether he actually wanted to marry Hariah Potter, but he did not want to let go of her yet. 'Not until I clear up a few things with her.' He was unaware that he had spoken the last part out loud.

Lucius gazed at him for a moment before rising to his feet. 'I see. So am I to understand that I won't be meeting her until you have "cleared up a few things"?'

Draco nodded slowly and stood up as well. He felt both guilty that he had disappointed his parents as well as relieved that he had succeeded in putting off the dreaded meeting for another time – if such a time did come.

His father gave him a long look as he picked up his hooded cloak and put it on. 'Well, I do hope that this matter will be resolved soon, Draco.'

_So do I_.

His parents took their leave and Draco offered to accompany them to the door. The moment they left the parlour, the noise from the main area of The Three Broomsticks assaulted their ears at once, forcing Lucius to shout to be heard over the din, 'Will you at least tell me who she is?'

Draco glanced at Narcissa. 'Perhaps Mother should be the one to tell you,' he suggested as they came to the end of the hallway and into the pub.

'What a racket,' muttered Lucius. He glanced at the band and stage contemptuously, but then did a double take. Curious, Draco followed his gaze and nearly walked into a table.

That was ... his fiancée up there ... dancing ... with another man.

He stood stock still, unable to move; unable to think.

It took several seconds for him to recognise Seamus Finnegan and even longer to see the uncomfortable look on Hariah Potter's face; obviously, she was not happy with her current situation. But slowly, her expression melted and a smile that grew increasingly larger graced her face as Finnegan twirled her around in exaggerated dance moves. They were taking up the whole stage due to their exuberance and the entire pub was encouraging them on with whistles and hoots. Before long, Draco saw that Potter had begun to actually laugh; she was enjoying herself. Enjoying dancing with someone that was not who it should be...

'Has it come to this, then?' Lucius' voice cut through Draco's thoughts. 'The heroine of our world takes part in such ludicrous activities such as this?'

'It's only a friendly dance,' Narcissa chastised. 'But do show her some respect, dear. She is our heroine, as you said ... and your future daughter-in-law.'

Lucius looked as if he had been struck over the head with a troll's club. It took a remarkable amount of time for him to locate his voice again.

'What?' He rounded on his son. 'Hariah Potter is ... is that true?'

Draco said nothing, but his silence was enough. Mouth hanging open, Lucius turned to stare at Potter again. 'My future ...' He could not finish.

'Yes, it is true,' Narcissa said firmly and turned to smile reassuringly at Draco. 'Do not worry, I shall talk to him,' she murmured before bidding him farewell and leading her husband outside. The pub was so crowded and noisy that no one noticed their presence. Lucius let her lead him, still not speaking, but Draco was no longer worried about his father's reaction. His attention had gone right back to the dancing couple on the stage.

He watched mutely as his fiancée let Seamus Finnegan pull her along, doing all the ridiculous moves one could possibly do on a stage. More than that though, he could not take his eyes off Finnegan's hands; his hands gripping her wrist, holding her arm, touching her hand, encircling her waist...

No one, _no one_ should be allowed to touch her like that! No one save himself. He should go up there right now and rip Finnegan's filthy hands off her body...

The thought had barely formed when the music abruptly ended. Finnegan finished off the dance by dipping his partner dangerously low and Hariah Potter threw her head back, laughing uproariously. The customers were on their feet, clapping and cheering for all their worth and an old man at the bar was bellowing louder than anyone else, 'Aye, that's the way to do it! Well done, lass, well done!'

Seamus Finnegan bowed to the crowd and placed a kiss on Potter's hand. Draco had to force himself to stay where he was as his anger rose. _It was nothing romantic_, he told himself. Just a friendly dance, as his mother had said.

However, his heart did not feel any lighter and his eyes focussed on the beautiful smile on her features. A smile that radiated pure, carefree happiness and lit up her entire face.

She had never smiled at him like that.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, this chapter was necessary to set the scenes for future chappies. Speaking of which, stay tuned for the next one. Draco finally pulls himself together, and that equals ... wait for it ... Draco/Harry interaction! ::insert fangirl squeal::**

**Also, since a particular question has been cropping up, I thought I'd clear up your confusions: _Why do Draco and Blaise speak more formally than the others?_ Well, since they're both from high-class families, I always imagined that they'd have a lot of etiquette lessons, and are pressed to be formal and always composed. Yeah, I know that Malfoy doesn't really speak like that in the books, but this is just me adding a bit of my own spice to the characters. :D (Admittedly, I kinda overdid the formal talk earlier and I've been trying to tone it down. Hope it's working. lol)**

**Anyway, thanks to all who shared their opinions on chapter lengths. Seems like most people prefer longer chapters, and even if I were left to my own devices, I'd probably end up writing long ones anyway. So, long chappies it is! :D Sorry to all who wanted shorter ones, but like I said, I can't please everyone. :)**

**And finally, thank you so much for your reviews! That last chapter got more reviews than any other has! You all have my deepest gratitude for making my days with your kind words, and now I shamelessly beg for more. Especially for concrit! Anything that needs improvement, please let me know!**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Strategy_**


	16. Strategy

******DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.**

**A/N: September 18th - Happy birthday to me! So, am I allowed to dedicate this chapter to myself? :P Haha, just kidding! This is for all you lovely readers out there! I hope you enjoy this chapter; I certainly enjoyed writing it ... ;)**

**

* * *

**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: STRATEGY**

'Whoa,' Harry murmured when she, Ron and Hermione arrived at the Quidditch pitch on Sunday morning. They looked around with wide eyes at the two hundred or so students who were holding broomsticks and talking among themselves as they awaited their captain. The remaining minority of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, too; they were settled on the stands to watch the try-outs. The sight reminded Harry of her first time as captain during sixth year. The try-outs then had been similar, only this time, a lot more students had signed up. Way more.

'This will go well into the afternoon, won't it?' Harry muttered, now feeling extremely glad that Hermione had bossed her and Ron into finishing all their homework the night before.

'Looks like it,' Hermione smiled. 'Well, I'll just go find a seat, shall I? Good luck,' she added to Ron and, after a tiny pause, shyly pecked him on the lips before hurrying away.

Harry bit back a grin at seeing the look on Ron's face. She knew that that simple kiss would perform better magic on his performance than a whole cauldron full of Felix Felicis.

'OK, let's get started,' Harry said, mentally going through a few easy techniques that would help to eliminate the less talented students before she moved onto the real trials. Ron fell into step with her and they both moved forward to meet the rest of the potential candidates.

Neither of them saw Hermione pause on her way to the stands, look at something farther off, and then abruptly change direction, disappearing from view. Nor did anyone notice when she came back several minutes later and no questions were raised regarding the pensive and brooding look on her face that lasted throughout the practice. She barely noticed when the man she loved was made the Gryffindor Keeper yet again.

* * *

Of the latest advice that Blaise had offered Draco concerning his dilemma with his fiancée, the words that most effectively spurred on the blond to just go up to Potter and knock some sense into her were these: _'I'm not sure how to phrase this, Draco, but I rather feel that whenever you've had to deal with Harry ever since this engagement business started, you – and I'm saying this as courteously as possible with no intent to insult, mind – you've been acting like a bit of a ... well, a complete _wuss_. You're as good as letting Harry walk all over you! And you're going to get nowhere unless you learn to deal with her sooner or later.'_

Whatever Blaise' intention might have been, Draco _had_ been insulted at his allegation. Very much. So, he had simply opted to ignore that part of their conversation (after subjecting his friend to one of his deadly glares, of course) and focus on what the brunet had to say on Hariah Potter instead. However, after having had successfully disappointed his parents the day before, the "wuss" part was all that Draco had been able to think about.

He had initially been considering leaving Potter alone for another week or so to dampen that fiery attitude of hers towards him, but when Draco woke up on Sunday, that was the last thing he felt like doing. Instead, only one other thought dominated his mind: _Just confront the woman already and get it over with._

And no, this out-of-the-blue decision had _absolutely nothing_ _at all_ to do with seeing his fiancée enjoy a so-called friendly dance with Seamus Finnegan, and realising that she may very well give her heart to another man if he, Draco, did not stop playing the coward and take care of the problem soon. _Nothing_ to do with that disheartening thought, no.

He spent a good amount of time in bed that morning, ignoring a persuasive Blaise that eventually left for breakfast without him, contemplating his decision and hardening his resolve. Whichever way he thought about it, a discomfited Draco had to admit that his actions did seem rather cowardly. He had not taken the initiative to explain himself fully to Potter, he had not fought against her false accusations of him, and he bloody well had not really done anything to work out the mess they were in. Blaise was right; he was getting nowhere this way. And if he did nothing to solve it, then he was going to lose his fiancée for good. Not necessarily to Finnegan who had made it amply clear to the whole school that he was madly obsessed with Millicent Bulstrode (poor girl; Draco felt somewhat sorry for her), but to some other stranger who might convince Potter that _he_ was the only one for her or that no one else could love her like _him_ or – or ... well, best not to think along those lines if Draco did not wish to destroy his bedside table with a hateful _Reducto_.

At length, he dressed and left the dormitory with single-minded purpose. He was going to seek out Hariah Potter wherever she was, and have it all out at last. If he played his cards right, then all might work out well. Though he still was not quite sure exactly what that entailed or what he really wanted from this meeting. The thought of actually marrying his rival was still a little unnerving, but he supposed that he did want a chance with her at least, to see where it might lead...

'Ah, the sun has finally risen for you, has it?'

Draco was snapped out of his musings to see Blaise entering the empty common room.

'Well, I'm afraid you're a little late in arising and will have to survive on an empty stomach until lunch,' he continued breezily. 'Breakfast is already over.'

Shrugging, Draco walked up to the stone wall of the room which slid open to reveal the dungeon corridor on the other side.

'I'm not hungry.'

'Then where are you going?' Blaise asked curiously.

Draco paused momentarily before deciding that he might as well just tell his friend. He would eventually know anyway.

Making sure that they were alone in the room, he answered in a low voice, 'I need to talk to Potter.'

The brunet stared at him for a few seconds before a large grin spread across his face. 'About time you decided to take my advice and stopped being a wuss, Malfoy! I believe we had that particular conversation ... hmm, some five or six days ago, was it? Well, took you long enough, then.'

A petulant retort was on the tip of Draco's tongue, but he decided against it and instead asked in a tight voice, 'Well, do you know where she is? Maybe you happened to see her in the Great Hall?'

'Yes.' Blaise was still grinning maniacally. 'But whatever you have to say to her, it will have to wait. I saw her and a bunch of other Gryffindors leave for the pitch shortly after breakfast. They're having Quidditch try-outs, I suppose.'

Draco nodded vaguely, trying not to show his disappointment on his face. He could certainly wait until she was finished with her Quidditch, but he really wanted to talk to her right at that moment when his determination was still fresh and firm. Not that he was going to back out of his decision, of course not, but his resolve was still somewhat unsteady and, now that he had plenty of time before he could talk to her, he did not want to end up spending that time imagining negative outcomes of their impending meeting – that was not exactly something that would give a boost to his steadfastness.

He was trying to decide on a course of action when Blaise, with a sly look that escaped Draco's attention, suggested nonchalantly, 'Why don't you go on down to the pitch, Draco?'

Starting, Draco turned to look at him. 'What?'

'I'm serious. Go down there. You can watch the try-outs till they finish and then talk to her.'

'It's hardly necessary ...'

Blaise rolled his eyes. 'Drake, a detour to the pitch is not going to get you killed. Besides, this way, you won't have to constantly check if the practices have ended or not. It'll be quite easy for you to corner Harry immediately afterwards.'

The blond paused, considering this logic. 'Well ... I guess you're right about that.'

'Of course,' Blaise grinned. '_And_ you'll get an extra bonus if you go!'

'Which would be ...?' Draco drawled, crocking an eyebrow.

'You'll get to watch her for at least a few hours, won't you? And I know how much you like looking at her...'

'BLAISE!'

The brunet in question merely laughed loudly at the look on Draco's face.

Though mortified at his friend's bluntness, Draco chose to go along with that plan anyway. And that was only because it was the easiest way. It had nothing to do with the tempting thought of "watching" Hariah Potter undetected for a couple of hours, he assured himself as he stalked out of the castle.

When Draco reached the pitch, Potter and her two sidekicks were already there; she and Weasley had their brooms, and Granger had probably come to watch the proceedings. Staying out of sight, Draco quickly slipped away and took refuge in a remote, shadowy corner in the stands where he was quite sure that no one would be able to see him.

Relaxing, he leaned back in his seat and languidly watched as Hariah Potter barked out commands, grouping off all the candidates and rather treating them like an army that was eager to obey her every whim. It was rather refreshing, he felt, to see these new sides of Potter; sides that he had not taken much notice of before because he had been far too busy convincing himself that he loathed her.

He rather regretted that now; regretted that everyone else seemed to know her so much better than he did himself. Add to that the fact that he was even considering marrying her and the whole thing sounded like a bad joke.

_Well_, he mused, _at least I know what I have to change_.

Again he got the urge to just go up to Potter and talk to her before his motivation died down. He really needed to get her to listen to him regardless of her attitude or mood.

_And make her understand that I'm not trying to force her to marry me,_ he added to himself, rolling his eyes slightly. The notion still sounded absurd to him and, when he thought about it, her mind-set and response to the engagement also seemed a little immature. He wondered vaguely if that, too, arose from another side to her that he had yet to uncover.

Well, all he could do was wait for the Gryffindor try-outs to be over. Hopefully, she would be in a good mood by then since he, at the very least, knew that she had a profound love for the sport. And perhaps she would actually give him a chance –

_If I "approach her the right way",_ thought Draco and immediately grimaced. That phrase had stuck in his brain and refused to leave him alone. _Thank you so much, Blaise_.

However, his insightful friend had proved useful, though. Especially the small bit of information-slash-advice he had provided: _'I don't know much about Harry, Drake, but she became my friend readily enough, so I don't think she's the type to hold grudges or prejudices against people if they're eventually friendly to her. I'd say she'd be willing to give you a chance, too, but only if you let her know your true intentions. Just don't give her the wrong impression (like you've already done; better correct that at once, Malfoy), because she seems a very independent sort of woman. _

'_Also ... please do not take this the wrong way, but don't you think you will make better progress if you were ... how should I put it? – more _open_ with your feelings for her? I mean, for Harry, you've been an enemy for so long; it can't be easy for her to accept you as a possible lover or future husband. So, you might consider helping her along.'_

Thoughtfully, Draco twirled his wand between his fingers. He could appreciate the wisdom and truth in Blaise' words, but at the same time, there was a part of him that wished he had thought of it himself. And he might have too, if he had paid enough attention to her character traits long before this...

Oh to hell with it! He was just ruminating about the same old thing all over again. _Time to move on, Malfoy_, he told himself, looking over at where his fiancée was testing the Chasers. If he wanted to have a chance with Hariah Potter, than he was going to have to change where their relationship stood, starting from today –

'Malfoy...?'

Startled, Draco looked up quickly to see someone slowly approaching him down the stands. He blinked in surprise when he recognised who it was.

_How did she know I was here?_

The bushy-haired girl came to a halt a few feet away and scrutinised him with narrowed and yet, strangely curious eyes.

'What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

* * *

'All right, good job!' Harry called when Demelza Robins, who was trying out for a Chaser again this year, finished her trial. Flushed with success, Demelza flew back to the ground while Harry quickly scanned through her parchment of candidates and noted down the girl's score beside those of the other potential Chasers that had made it through the first elimination stage.

Harry examined the scores critically. Demelza was the only that had succeeded in putting the Quaffle through a hoop five times in a row. Ginny Weasley had made four goals (much to her shame) while four others had managed to squeeze in three.

'OK, listen up!' Harry said authoritatively, looking up at the hopeful faces of the Chaser candidates. 'Ginny and Demelza – you're in. To pick the third Chaser, however, I'm going to hold another round for Alyssa Howard, Dean Thomas, Garrett Rydinger and John Rayson because they're tied. And no, I'm _not_ going to change my mind,' she added loudly when the protests, which she had been anticipating, arose from the other rejected candidates. 'They have the third highest scores and so they deserve the second go, fair and square. So, the rest of you, please leave the pitch now! Thanks for coming.'

Grousing and disappointed, the eliminated Gryffindors left, many of then heading to the stands to watch the reminder of the trials. Harry turned back to the remaining candidates.

'All right, you four,' Harry said, lightly throwing the red Quaffle to Garrett Rydinger, a lanky sixth year, who caught the ball with ease. 'Let's get this done so we can move on to the Keeper try-outs. Same procedure: try and make five goals. The one with the highest count gets the Chaser position. Line up!

'And welcome back,' she added in an undertone to a grinning Ginny and overjoyed Demelza while the other four Gryffindors mounted their brooms again and prepared to take off.

'Rydinger, you go first,' Harry commanded the dark-haired teen who nodded and flew up to take his shots.

Harry was about to get on her Firebolt and follow him when, all of a sudden, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She froze at the prickling sensation and then abruptly whirled around. All that she could see, though, were the reinstated Chasers and the many other candidates that were waiting further away. Uncertainly, she looked around the pitch, letting her gaze rove over the on-lookers and empty stands. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.

_But I could've sworn I felt someone staring..._

_Well of course there are quite a lot of people staring_, Harry chided herself the next moment. Almost the entire Gryffindor House were out on the stands, after all.

But still, that feeling_ ... it felt familiar_...

'Hey, Harry,' Ginny called, startling Harry out of her thoughts. 'You feeling all right? What's the matter?'

Harry shot another puzzled look at the empty stands further off.

'Nothing,' she murmured softly as she turned back to her broom, unable to shake off the self-conscious feeling gripping her. _It was nothing..._

_

* * *

_

'What are you doing here, Malfoy?'

Draco frowned in displeasure. 'What business is that of yours, Granger?' he drawled while wondering how she had seen him. He had been sure that no one would.

Hermione Granger did not appear to be affronted at his rude response. On the contrary, she looked rather thoughtful.

'Are you here to see Harry?'

He looked at her, somewhat surprised. Her seemingly calm reaction to his presence was quite unprecedented. He would have imagined that she would assume he was spying on Potter and threaten him with pain and dismemberment if he took the innocence of their precious Girl Who Lived; not ask if he was _here to see Harry _– and rather nicely, too.

'Why do you want to know?' Draco finally asked, eyeing her warily.

With a careless shrug, she sat down a few feet away from him, giving him his space. 'Harry told us a few weeks ago that she finally told you about getting your ring. But she also said that you didn't give her an answer back then, and seeing you here now, I figured you finally came to tell her your decision.' She looked questioningly at him. 'So, is that why you're here? Have you decided to cancel the engagement altogether?'

Draco turned away, unable to suppress a snort. 'Not that it is any of your business, but no. My being here has more to do with beating some common sense into that thick skull of hers. She got her chance to beat me up; now it's my turn.'

'What are you talking about?' Granger asked, sounding confused.

'You very well know,' Draco answered contemptuously, beginning to wish that she would just leave him alone. 'The Girl Who Lived is so ready to jump to conclusions and get physical instead of giving others' their chance to have a say, isn't she? Not to mention that the conclusions she draws are utterly preposterous. One would think that the _Chosen One_ would show more maturity –'

'What are you _talking_ about?' she repeated more forcefully.

Draco looked at her, raising his eyebrows at the genuinely perplexed look on her face. 'You don't know?' he asked disbelievingly.

'Don't know _what_?'

'About that meeting ... in the Defence room ... Potter didn't tell you?'

Granger simply gaped dumbly at him.

Draco stared at her, shaking his head slightly. 'She didn't tell you...'

_Why not, though?_ Potter had always struck him as the sort who shared everything with her little sidekicks. Well, maybe not the more intimate and potentially mortifying aspects of events, but still, he had assumed that she would at least give them the general idea of things, such as meeting his mother. _But if she had not..._

And on top of that, here with him was one of the aforementioned sidekicks, who – miraculously – did not seem utterly repulsed at her best friend being engaged to their ex mortal enemy. _Hmm..._

An idea began to form in his head; an idea that he probably would have never dreamed of before, but at the moment, Draco was quite willing to try new approaches, even if it meant involving people he did not hold in high regard.

'Granger,' he drawled, turning to face her fully, 'I think you and I need to have a little talk. And I want to hear your honest opinion.'

* * *

Harry was exhausted. The sun had long since passed its zenith in the sky and the Quidditch try-outs were finally over, along with Harry's strength and energy. She had worn herself out trying to separate the candidates with real talent from those that had signed up just for the hell of it, and the overwhelming protests that the rejected Gryffindors had raised had forced her to shout herself hoarse. But, in spite of everything, Harry stood smiling and satisfied in front of the Gryffindor team she had put together for that year.

The Chasers, Ginny and Demelza, were joined by Garrett Rydinger who had just managed to beat out his tough competition with a score of four goals out of five. Ron had made it back in as Keeper after a spectacular trial where he had blocked all the goals the Chasers had tried to put past him. As for the Beaters, Harry had welcomed back Jimmy Peakes, whose skills had drastically improved, and newbie Diego Raphael, a stout fourth year that had nearly taken Harry's arm off with a strongly hit Bludger. All in all, she was very pleased with her team.

'Excellent work, everybody!' she congratulated them with a proud grin. 'Garrett and Diego, welcome to the team, and the rest of you, welcome back! You all did great today.

'Anyway, you know we have only a few weeks until the first match of the season, so we'll be holding practices three times a week to horn our skills and improve our teamwork. Mondays and Wednesdays at seven in the evening, and at eleven on Saturday mornings. Homework will be an issue, so I can't take more than two of your weeknights,' she added when their faces fell at "Saturday mornings".

'But what about Hogsmeade Saturdays?' asked Demelza.

'On Hogsmeade weekends, we'll just postpone the training to the evening or the next day,' Harry answered decisively. 'If you have any clashes with the timings, please let me know.' She paused for a few seconds, and when no one said anything, 'The training will start from this Monday onwards, so I'll see you then. Thanks for coming today.'

With "OK, I'll be there"s and "Thank you, Harry"s, the new Gryffindor team dispersed. Harry smiled brightly at them and then turned to Ron, who had not stopped grinning ever since saving his last goal.

'Well, someone's looking very happy,' she remarked amusedly.

Ron smiled sheepishly at her. 'It almost felt like I'd had some of that lucky potion today,' he admitted. 'I mean, those were some really tough goals, you know. I dunno how I saved all of them.'

Harry shook her head, chuckling. 'Hermione should kiss you more often,' she told him with a smirk, unable to resist.

'What?' Ron sputtered, his ears going red. His entire face followed suit when he caught sight of the girl in question approaching them with a warm smile on her face.

'Keeper again! Congratulations, Ron! I knew you could do it.'

The redhead, still flushed, beamed down at her. 'Thanks! I made some pretty good saves out there, didn't I?'

Hermione's smile drooped a little and a momentary spark of confusion flashed through her eyes. 'Saves...? Oh yes,' she said hastily, 'they were amazing!'

'Yeah,' Ron went on excitedly as they turned to head back to the castle. 'I still can't believe it though! I mean, when Demelza came at me and feinted to her right –'

Tuning out his chatter, Harry took Hermione by the arm and deliberately slowed down so that they fell back behind Ron.

'You did see him make those saves, didn't you?' Harry, who had not missed Hermione's little slip, asked in an undertone.

'Of course I did!' she answered calmly, averting her eyes.

Harry looked at her with raised eyebrows, unconvinced. 'Hermione –'

'Oh yes, Harry, I nearly forgot,' she interrupted, turning to face her abruptly. Ahead of them, Ron turned and looked at the two girls questioningly, finally having realised that they had fallen back. 'You need to go to the changing rooms.'

'What?' Harry stammered, baffled. 'But I'm not even in my Quidditch robes, Hermione.'

'Changing rooms, Harry.'

'What are you talking about?!'

'Please, just _go_.'

Harry stared at her, completely bamboozled before slowly beginning to comprehend what she might mean. 'You want me to meet somebody ... Who?' she asked uncertainly, wondering why her friend was acting so peculiar.

Hermione had the strangest expression on her face. It reflected indecision and anxiety as well as just a hint of something that looked like mild amusement. 'Trust me, Harry. Just go, all right.'

And it was probably because she trusted her best friend so much that Harry, instead of responding with a resounding 'NO!' as she normally might have done, obligingly turned and slowly began to walk towards the changing rooms, throwing one last uneasy glance over her shoulder. Behind her, she heard a suspicious Ron offering to accompany her and Hermione brusquely shooting him down and calling after her that they would be waiting for her at Hagrid's.

However, it was Hermione's parting words that nearly made her miss a step:

'Oh, and Harry? Be nice.'

* * *

It was with both relief and dread that Draco, who was leaning against the doors of the changing rooms, looked up at the sound of grass crunched underfoot. Relieved that she really had come to meet him, and dreading that he was going to make another dim-witted blunder and blow this meeting – again.

She eventually came round the outer side of the pitch and, upon seeing his profile, abruptly halted. Her eyes widened slightly, and Draco garnered that Granger had not told her whom she was meeting. But judging from how fast the surprise disappeared and was replaced with calculating coldness, she probably had suspected that it was him beforehand anyway. And from the way her mouth was tightening as were the fingers still gripping her broomstick ... oh yes, she was not at all pleased to see him.

They both gazed at each other for several seconds, neither speaking nor willing to be the first to break the frosty silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of staring at her eyes which were burning at him, Draco opened his mouth to speak with no idea of how to break the ice, but Potter was much quicker.

'You know, I would ask about what the hell you did to get Hermione to send me here – since you obviously have something to do with it – but right now, I really couldn't care less. If you're here to finally take your damn ring back, then, by all means, just get it over with. But if what you have is another witty scheme on how you can force this marriage or yourself on me – which you most probably do – then just. Go. To. Hell.'

Draco, whose hopes had deflated and anger steadily risen throughout her monologue, shot the Gryffindor a withering glare. He had not even got a word out yet and already she was reeling off with her imprudent accusations.

'What is it _with you_?' He snapped, pushing away from the doors and taking a step towards her.

'Me?' she retorted, standing her ground. '_You're_ one to talk, Malfoy, running around and imposing bloody marriage on a person who clearly wants nothing to do with you!'

'Yes, you have made that sufficiently clear, thank you,' Draco said harshly, ignoring the hurt her ruthless words were causing him. 'And you have also made it fully obvious just how unbelievably _immature_ you can be!'

'Immature! You –!'

'Honestly, _forcing _you to marry me! Do you have any idea how utterly foolish that sounds?'

'Oh, I beg to differ.' Potter took a few threatening steps towards him. 'Let's look at the situation, shall we? Here I am, your worst enemy, who got your stupid _engagement ring_ for some equally stupid reason! So, what should you have done, huh? Taken that thing off like any other rival would have, that's what! But what do you do instead? You go and bloody introduce me to your _mother_ who can't wait for us to be married! I think that's tantamount to saying that you're pretty much "forcing me", yeah!'

Clenching his fists, Draco folded his arms and looked coldly at her, trying to ignore the sneering and sarcastic tone she had taken on as he struggled to fight down his temper.

'Don't you dare tell me what I _should _have done, Potter, when you know absolutely nothing of my intentions or feelings,' he replied in a low, would-be calm voice. 'However, I do agree that I should have given you a better warning before allowing my mother to see you, so if it makes you happy ... I ... apologise for that,' he added, stumbling over the words a little.

It was, he would realise later, the first time in his life that he had ever apologised to Hariah Potter.

She was gaping at him, completely shocked at the all-too-sudden apology which she had never expected to hear. Draco felt a touch of satisfaction at having caught her off-guard and could not help but smirk inwardly.

'However,' he continued, 'I fail to see how introducing you to my mother justifies your believing that I'm coercing you into marriage –'

She snorted, quickly recovering from her earlier amazement. 'What else does that meeting imply, Malfoy?' she asked derisively, propping her arm on the handle end of her broom. 'For seven years, you've been my rival. You _loathe_ me. So, when you introduce me to your mother as your fiancée, what else can it mean?'

'Listen to me, Potter,' Draco began exasperatedly, but she turned a deaf ear to him.

'Why would someone who hate me ever want to marry me, huh? Tell me that. Really, when I ask myself all these, your "intentions" become transparent enough –!'

Draco stared at her in frustration and annoyance. There she was off again, ranting on about the things that she believed to be true without letting his voice be heard, much like how she had been snarling in his face that day in the DADA classroom.

_Does she ever stop once she gets started?_ He wondered with irritation as she continued to seethe. Of all the times they had exchanged insults in the past, he certainly had never been able to shut her up as far as he could remember, either because he had been too busy cursing back or she was doing the same. Honestly, the only time he had ever managed to purposefully silence her was...

Draco's heart nearly skipped a beat when he remembered: the night he had deliberately taunted her outside the Headmistress' office after she had run into him for the third time.

He looked at Potter, whose mouth had yet to cease moving. That night, he most definitely had succeeded in getting her tongue tied when he had unwittingly taken his little game of provocation too far; the only time he had ever had that effect on her.

The teasing temptation that took shape as the memory assaulted his mind slowly began to swell, tugging at his deep-rooted desires. It would be, he knew, quite a foolish thing to do and definitely would not count as "approaching her the right way". In fact, it was probably the surest route of getting punched and/or slapped again. But, right then, Draco could not bring himself to care. He was tired of trying to keep a strategy in mind when dealing with Potter and her unfounded allegations, and their little meet-up had already gone awry what with the bad start anyway. There was little to lose by throwing caution to the wind.

And so, without bothering to consider the consequences, he stepped right in front of her and roughly pulled her to him by the waist, raising an arm and pressing his finger against her lips as an afterthought.

Freezing up, Hariah Potter fell silent at once, her eyes widening in surprise and disbelief as she stared up at him. Her broomstick lay, forgotten, on the ground. She did not struggle to get away nor did she bat his finger away from her mouth, but – much like the first time he had ever touched her like this – the antagonism in her eyes abruptly faded and was replaced with heated embarrassment and something else he could not define.

Draco looked down at her wide, bright green eyes rather thoughtfully. 'So, in my case, this really is the only way to get you to stop talking, is it?' he murmured. 'And why is that, may I ask?'

He half-expected her to push him away and make a scathing reply, but the colour in her cheeks only deepened at his words and she quickly dropped her eyes to stare at a point somewhere around his shoulder, looking flustered. Draco watched her reaction with some wonderment, forgetting his current annoyance with her.

'Does being close to me really make you this self-conscious?' He asked without thinking. He almost winced as the words slipped from his mouth, but Potter only shot him a mortified glance before looking away again. The sight of it coaxed a small, amused smile from him and he removed his finger from her soft lips and propped it under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

She met her intense gaze reluctantly and Draco marvelled at how vulnerable she now appeared. Only moments ago she had been shouting, but pressed up against him, her self-confidence had vanished and, _Merlin_, she was positively _blushing_! Hell, it was the sort of reaction he would expect from someone who was attracted to him, not from Hariah Pott –

He froze at the startling thought. What were the odds? He eyed the uncomfortable girl in his arms, his heart beginning to beat louder as his hopes arose. If she actually hated him, really and truly loathed him, she would not allow him to hold her like this, would she? But she still had made no attempt to get away and her expression was far from revulsion. The tiny smile on his face broadened a little. _Maybe it is true_, Draco mused, feeling a spark of happiness he had not felt in a long time. Maybe what he was suspecting to be "attraction" was not written in stone; but all the same, these new and unfamiliar hints certainly pointed in that direction and that was quite an encouraging thought.

He would think on it later, Draco decided. He still had to accomplish what he had set out do, but all the same, he already felt rather satisfied thanks to this newfound possibility.

'So,' he continued in a far softer voice than before, causing Potter to look uneasily at him. 'Now that you're here' – he emphasised the word by crushing her a little closer, just to see how she would react; her breath hitched in her throat – 'and I've got the chance to get in a word, will you finally _listen_?' He did not give her time to reply (if she could have managed that in her current condition) and went on,

'You think so lowly of me, but did you ever stop to consider that maybe, just _maybe_, you are actually wrong? You assume that I hate you and so I cannot possibly be considering marrying you out of love, and so when I drag you to my mother, it is because I'm planning to impose marriage on you due to some dastardly scheme I have in store for you as I'm nothing but a heartless wretch who only sees you as a – what was it? – oh yes, a "toy". Is that about right? But it never occurred to you, did it, that I might have other reasons as to why I didn't immediately stop this engagement? And you never even thought about giving me a chance to explain myself.

'Well, let me clear up a few things for you, Potter. First of all, I brought you to my mother because she was so insistent upon it. All she wanted was to meet you and, despite what impression you have of her motives or mine, it does not mean that I'm forcing anything on you. Nor is my mother intending to push us into marriage no matter what she said that day.

'Secondly, my reasons for not taking back the ring is not because I think of you as a toy. But it was because ...' Draco paused, trying to find the right words to say. 'Because ... I wanted to ... give this a chance. Give _us_ a chance,' he said at length. He looked directly at Potter who stared back, appearing flummoxed by what he was saying.

Before he lost his nerve, Draco ploughed on, 'There is a reason why the ring chose you, Potter. It was not a malfunction and it wasn't for a _stupid reason_, either. Its magic is powerful and it acted upon my wishes, as I'm sure you already know. I want to see for myself why it picked you. That is why I waited instead of removing it, Potter.'

A long pause ensued in which his fiancée shook her head a little, trying to pull her thoughts together.

'Just – just what are you trying to say?' She was finally able to whisper.

Draco scrutinised her, trying to guess how she would respond to his answer. 'I want to get to know you.'

Potter looked at him with uncomprehending eyes and he hesitantly began to explain, 'I'm not keeping you in this only for marriage, Potter. The rings only find the qualities that the owner is looking for. But the whole point of the engagement is for the betrotheds to learn each other and see if they truly are compatible. It does not mean that one is keeping the other prisoner, nor does it mean that it ultimately ends in the two of them marrying.'

She let out a shaky breath. 'You're saying you want to know me and see if we can get along.'

'Yes,' he said slowly, almost holding his breath as he intuitively held her tighter. Was she actually coming round to his way of thinking?

'And if we don't, then it's the end of this arrangement. But ... if by some incredible way, if this works ... you're ... you're going to marry me anyway, aren't you ... And this – this engagement, though it's about learning each other, it's still ultimately meant to work towards a marriage. Isn't it?'

The hope in Draco's eyes faded. 'Does the thought of marrying me revolt you so much?' He asked quietly, his face betraying some of the injury her edgy voice had caused.

A flash of guilt passed through her eyes, but she did not answer his question. Instead, she said with a hint of stubbornness in her voice, 'I want to know why you want to do this so badly. Isn't it already obvious that this engagement is not going to work? You and I both know we're not compatible. To even get along, don't we have to at least like each other? But we don't.'

Appearing to regain some of her old assurance, she raised her chin and met his gaze squarely. 'Come on, Malfoy,' she said in a low, reasonable voice. 'You said yourself that you don't want to marry me because of some "dastardly scheme". So, why else are you doing this? Just because I was chosen? If so, then aren't you putting a little too much faith in a ring? Maybe it didn't malfunction, but this out-of-the-blue engagement is not going to change how we feel just like that! All these years we've hated each other, Malfoy! A ring can't change years' worth of hatred into love, enchanted or not. So, this engagement is completely hopeless, don't you see? You'll just be wasting your time.'

Draco slowly digested her words, regarding her silently for so long that she lost her poise again and her eyes filled with uncertainty. He inhaled deeply through his nose, thinking everything through. He understood that, to her, her logic seemed extremely reasonable, but she still did not know everything and he did not know how to make her see it all. It would take time for her to accept them, but considering her nature and attitude towards him, he knew that whatever he dealt her would have to make enough of an impression for her to even consider it.

_What can convince her that she's wrong?_ He wondered wearily. Potter believed that he had always hated her (and with good reason) and that was the first misconception he had to correct. Otherwise, they would get nowhere. But to overthrow such a strong conviction, he needed a stronger counterattack. But at this point in their relationship, what could be done? _I can't make her believe that I don't hate her_. Words would be meaningless at this moment; she would take them as shallow lies. She could believe it only if she allowed him to let her _feel_ what _he_ felt, but...

_But ..._ Draco felt his mouth go dry as the thought, desperate and utterly imprudent, took hold of him. No, he should not do it! It was completely inappropriate, especially considering the circumstances. But if it really worked ... _And it really might_, his desires whispered, filling him with temptation and making him feel dazed and strangely reckless.

'Malfoy.'

Taking an unsteady breath, he focussed his mind on Potter, who looked tentatively up at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Draco, driven by the sudden fire and determination inside him, spoke across her,

'There's one more thing I want to clear up today, Potter,' he breathed. 'And I suggest you pay attention to this one...'

Draco hung back for only a fraction of a second, but then he wound his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her head closer as he swiftly leaned down and captured her inviting lips in his. The feel of her moist mouth sent jolts of electricity through his nerves and, with a wanton groan, he crushed her flush against him, gnawing hungrily at her lips. She stood rigid and unresponsive as he kissed her with fiery passion, but he barely registered that as he concentrated on pouring every drop of his sentiments and feelings into the contact. All those years of bottled emotions, obsessive desires, craving to be with her and for her, and now lust – he tried to put everything into his touch so that she could feel them with the same intensity, the same ardour, right here, right now through his kiss.

As the seconds passed, he felt her trembling in his arms and he ran a hand slowly down her back, a comforting yet sensual touch. His caress elicited a soft moan from her and she unconsciously gripped his arms. Taking advantage of her parted lips, Draco deepened the kiss, revelling in the sweet taste of her mouth. He gently pulled her head back, wanting more access and she offered it without resistance, tentatively returning the touch.

Draco did not know for how long he stood there, drinking in her sweetness, but it was with reluctance that he finally pulled back, relinquishing her bottom lip from his teeth. Her eyes opened and she looked dazedly at him, breathing hard. Slowly, as she came to grips with what had just transpired, a kaleidoscope of emotions exploded in her eyes.

'What ...?' she stammered, trembling again.

Trying to gather his thoughts, he returned her gaze intensely. 'What did that feel like, Potter?' He murmured. He leaned forward so that his mouth brushed against her ear. 'Still think I hate you?'

He let go of her waist and abruptly walked away, heading towards Hogwarts. It was all he could do to keep from turning back, but he did not think he could control himself if he were to spend another minute in her presence.

He had done enough for today, he told himself. Best to let Potter think on everything by herself for now.

_And I'll be damned if she comes to slap me again_, he thought, but even then, he found it impossible to make light of what he had just done and his thoughts went back to that kiss. The feel of her, the taste ... he had never dreamed before that he would be allowed to do it one day.

Lost in thoughts of Hariah Potter and, it must be admitted, her lips, Draco hurried back to the castle, occasionally reminding himself not to look back. So absorbed was he that he never noticed the small crouching figure that darted away from behind him.

* * *

Harry's brain had officially shut down. She could not interrogate Hermione about her betrayal (yes, that's exactly what it was), but more than that, she could not bring herself to contemplate the "meeting" between her and Draco Malfoy. Because every time she even tried to make sense of it, all her mind could focus on was the sensation of his lips devouring hers and the pleasure it had evoked in her. There was no sense in denying it; she had bloody enjoyed that experience and the thought mortified her.

Thus, Harry spent the remainder of Sunday in a daze, easily ignoring her worried friends and forcing her mind to stay blank. Surprisingly, this was not too hard to do and she succeeded in keeping it up all the way until breakfast on Monday. And she would have happily continued along this zombie state for the rest of eternity if it were not for one thing...

The shocked faces that awaited her at the Gryffindor table when she arrived in the morning.

Harry looked from one to the other with raised eyebrows as she sat down, growing increasingly more apprehensive and frustrated when no one said anything. Ron was simply gaping at her and Hermione looked both surprised and worried, while most of the others stared at her, whispering among themselves.

The scene was so reminiscent of similar incidents that she had faced dozens of times already that Harry, quickly losing her patience, turned to Hermione and said irritably, 'So, what are people saying about me _now_?'

With the utmost reluctance, Hermione silently handed over a folded copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Aiming a look of hatred at the thing that had already caused her so much trouble, Harry snatched the paper and unfolded it, aware that everyone in the vicinity was watching her. She spread the paper on the table and looked witheringly at the front page. For a moment, she could not compute what she was seeing, but when she did, it was with shock followed by a sinking heart and a prayer that the earth would gobble her up.

Because taking up over half the page was a huge, moving photo and it depicted Draco Malfoy holding Hariah Potter in his arms and snogging her senseless as if there was no tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: What happened between Draco and Harry, it wasn't really supposed to happen! At least, not here. But I dunno, it just seemed right at that moment and ... ah, it just goes to show how much control I have over my own story. But hey, who am I to complain over a scene like that? ;)**

**So, puh-lease review??? I really want to know what you guys thought about this chapter!**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - New Beginnings_ (This might take a while. Kinda busy with school)**


	17. A New Beginning

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

******A/N: *le gasp* Look who's finally updating!! ::dodges all the sharp, pointy objects::**

******Seriously though, I'm really sorry. But school demands a lot of my time. (While we're on the subject of school, can anyone please tell me the name of the jerk that invented exams? Because I want to go after him with a fire poker! And no, the guy being already dead is not an issue :P)**

******Anyway, enough of my ramblings. Now go go read read! xD**

******

* * *

**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A NEW BEGINNING**

Harry's breath came out as a shaky gasp and she clenched her teeth, unable to tear her eyes away from that damning photo. Her hands, which had balled into fists, shook slightly and Harry was horribly aware of the silence that had pervaded the atmosphere of the Great Hall. It was oppressive and suffocative, as if everyone present were holding their breaths, waiting for her reaction.

Finally, after several tense seconds, she slowly raised her eyes from the _Daily Prophet_ only to be met with Hermione's concerned gaze across the table. She was vaguely aware of Ron, silent and rigid, sitting beside her, but at that instant, the only person on whom she could focus was her female best friend. She watched her mutely for a long minute and, if the stricken expression that passed across the brunette's face was anything to go by, Hermione clearly understood the look in her eyes:

_This is your fault ... Why did you have to send me there...?_

There was no real passion behind the nonverbal accusation, however; no deep fury behind it, though Harry dearly wanted to summon some anger. She _wanted_ to rage at Hermione. She wanted to treat that photographer – whoever it was – to the most gruesome murder her brain could concoct, _and_ also introduce Draco Malfoy to Hagrid's little pet, Fluffy, just for good measure. But all the fire had seeped out of her and Harry merely felt numb and defeated.

_Can I never escape this thing?_ She wondered, dropping her gaze back to the _Prophet_. She watched as the Malfoy in the photo carded his fingers through her black tresses as he kissed her, and blinked owlishly. _Huh_. She had not even noticed back then that he had been stroking her hair. Had she really been that distracted by the ardent ministrations of his lips? A heated blush suffused Harry's cheeks at the thought and she prayed fervently, _Please, just let this be a nightmare that never happened_.

Sadly for Harry, it became apparent that there was going to be no answering of prayers anytime soon since, at that second, someone chose to break the profound silence – with a very loud and equally suggestive wolf whistle.

And all hell broke loose.

'Gosh, Harry, is that picture real?'

'Dang it, you're lucky!'

'Oh man, you seriously kissed Malfoy? That's just gross, mate; no offence!'

'_I_ wanted to kiss him –!'

'So, how long have you two been getting all naughty-naughty behind the changing rooms, eh?'

Harry only faintly registered their over-lapping remarks as she blearily looked around at them. People from the other tables were approaching the Gryffindors, vying for her attention as they shot their questions at her. Their excited voices beat down on her ears, overwhelming her, and Harry closed her eyes, trying to drown them out.

'C'mon, Harry, spill!'

'Ha, I always knew Potter and Malfoy had a thing for each other –'

'Yeah, check out that snog-fest!'

Without a word, Harry stood and turned to leave. She caught a glimpse of the subdued Ron and Hermione, the only two people at her table that had not assaulted her with questions and comments. They made no move to follow her and she did not ask for their company as she began to force her way through the resistant mob of students that were still screeching her ears off. Most of them tried to stop her, eagerly demanding answers, but she did not oblige. Nor did she look at the Slytherin table on her way out of the Hall.

She did not want to know.

* * *

Draco was in the process of finding some choice words with which to curse his broken alarm clock (which, admittedly, he had forgotten to repair the night before), and also fumbling with his tie that simply refused to be tied into a decent knot when the dormitory door banged open and Blaise came marching inside. Draco persistently continued his futile battle with his pig-headed tie – yes, inanimate objects _can_ be pig-headed, don't you know – and spoke without glancing up,

'I know, I know; I'm late. You didn't have to come here to mother-hen me just because I'm about to miss breakfast –'

'On the contrary,' Blaise drawled as he propped himself against his bedpost, 'I'd say that you are one lucky bastard to be missing breakfast today.'

'Blame that accursed alarm clock! And couldn't you have woken me – wait, what do you mean, I'm lucky?' Draco looked up abruptly.

The brunet shrugged. 'Just that it is a good thing that you didn't have to face _this_ in front of the whole school during morning post.' He held up a newspaper he was carrying so that the front page faced the blond. 'I doubt you'd have enjoyed that particular experience. Harry certainly hated it from what I could see.'

It took a moment for Draco to compute what he was seeing and, when he did, his immediate reaction resembled the effects of a full-body _Petrificus Totalus_. Paralysed with shock, he stared incredulously at the photograph that was baring his – no, their – secret for the entire world to see.

'What ...?'

'You're really something, Malfoy,' Blaise said dryly. He threw the paper onto Draco's bed where it landed face down. 'I know I urged you a lot to go and see her, but _that_ was a bit much, don't you think? Or ...' A knowing leer crossed his face. 'Was that just a spur-of-the-moment kiss, perhaps?'

Draco did not answer. His mind had completely blanked and his eyes remained locked on the _Daily Prophet_ that lay innocently on his bedspread.

'Snogging the woman was not what I had in mind for you, but I won't condemn you yet as I don't know the details,' the other Slytherin continued breezily, undeterred by his friend's dumbstruck state. He tilted his head to the side curiously. 'So, tell me, what exactly prompted you to act so rashly and how did Harry take your, eh ... advance? And don't tell me that she gave a kick to your lower extremities this time – though that does sound pretty understandable.'

Slowly, Draco came back to his senses and Blaise' words sank into his mind. He gaped at his friend. 'Zabini ... some good-for-nothing little sonovabitch took a picture of something extremely personal and private to me and had it splashed all over the goddamned newspapers ... and all you can think about is whether or not _my fiancée kicked me in the bal_ –?!'

'Hey, hey, look now,' Blaise raised his hands in surrender. 'I'm simply more curious about the development of your relationship than the _Daily Prophet_.'

'Ugh, fine. Yes, I kissed her on impulse and she took it differently than I expected (which did not involve her kicking me between my legs, since you're so desperate to know). There. Question answered?'

'Not really...'

'But what _I_ want to know,' Draco went on, leaving shoe-shaped indents as he began to stomp back and forth across the room, 'is how that photo ended up on the news! Who wrote it? And took the picture?!'

Looking infuriatingly calm and collected considering the circumstances, Blaise sat down on Draco's bed and picked up the _Prophet_. 'If you ask me, those should be the least of your worries for now.'

'Oh yes? And exactly what could be more pressing than that?' Draco snapped, vaguely noting the interesting tattoo his pacing route had inadvertently left on the ground.

'Hmm. How about the fact that this article proposes quite the scandalous question: Is Harry Potter the secret fiancée of Draco Malfoy or is she ... "the other woman"?'

The Malfoy heir froze in his tracks. 'Excuse me?' he breathed in a low tone that practically screamed danger louder than a rampaging Manticore.

Blaise looked apologetically at his friend. 'I'm sorry, Drake, but it's true. And, reading between the lines, it implies that Harry is probably the latter.'

'WHAT?! Draco exploded, barely listening. The very thought sent waves of anger crashing over him. 'What do they mean, the _other woman_?! How the hell did they conceive such an idea? What do people take me for, a womanizing two-timer? And Potter. What, they now think their precious Chosen One is nothing but a gold-digging whore?'

'I think I understand why they might think so.'

'Oh, you do, do you?' Draco's eyes could have frozen crude oil, so cold was the contemptuous look he threw at his friend. He crossed his arms over his chest. 'Then do explain how these people's twisted minds work. I mean, for Merlin's sake, why would I kiss Potter if I were engaged to someone else –?!'

'Well, look at it from their perspective,' Blaise spoke up in a reasonable voice that counter-productively served to only stoke Draco's fury. 'Everyone here has seen nothing but you two going at each others' throats since the first day. And, if I remember correctly, you helped Rita Skeeter write a couple of articles about Harry before – and the information you provided was not flattering. '

Draco's outrage abruptly subsided as memories from his fourth year arose at Blaise' remark. With a wince, he turned away, trying to bury the shame and guilt that had begun to take hold of him.

Taking no notice of his best friend's discomfort, Blaise went on seriously, 'You can see what sort of image people have of you both due to all that. They can't really imagine Harry as your "perfect bride", can they? So, naturally, instead of thinking that she's your betrothed, they'd lean more towards the other woman theory, even though that too must seem rather odd considering you're supposed to loathe her and everything.'

For several seconds following Blaise' words, Draco simply gazed at his friend, not knowing how to respond. He tried to ignore the inner turmoil in his mind. It had not been a day since he had talked to his fiancée in hopes of solving everything; afterwards, he had not even got the chance to see if he had made any progress, but already everything had been turned upside-down! Now what was he supposed to do?

'Please,' he finally said, suddenly feeling exhausted, 'please tell me you're just playing a sick joke on me.' A stupid thing to say, really, but that did not stop him from desperately wishing that it were true.

Blaise was sympathetic, but brutally honest. 'If only I were, Draco, if only. But never mind that now. Think about Harry. You have to come to an understanding with her sometime soon. Else, everyone's probably going to end up believing that you're an unfaithful fiancé and that Harry's a scarlet woman.'

* * *

Lunch hour found Harry in the confines of an empty corner in the library. With a relieved sigh, she deposited her bag on the floor and sat down heavily at a table, burying her head in her forearms.

Double Potions that morning had been absolute torture. Only the thought of the project that she and Blaise had worked so hard on and her final NEWT grades had encouraged Harry to go to class, and even then, she had walked in at the last minute. The sight of nearly everyone watching her like hawks had given her the urge to gouge their eyes out, and even Slughorn – though he apparently had enough tact and sense not to gush over her like he generally did – had been glancing discreetly in her direction while he explained the lesson.

As for Malfoy, Harry had not even looked to see if he was present or not. The last thing that she wanted was to see his face (_his lips_, her mind whispered with a wicked smirk).

The only person who had acted even remotely normal was Blaise. Since she had completely ignored her partner while they quietly worked on their potion, he had returned the favour. Harry was thankful for that since she knew he had merely been considerate of her feelings. Now, if only the rest of the world would pay her the same courtesy...

Harry turned her head and made herself more comfortable. Her stomach was rumbling since she had not eaten any breakfast, but there was no physical need strong enough to make her leave the solitude of the Library. She had no desire to face that earlier humiliation in the Great Hall again. In fact, she did not want to face anybody right now...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then a familiar, masculine voice said rather uncomfortably, 'Here. Thought you might fancy some of these.'

Harry looked up to see Ron sliding into the chair across from her. He dropped a large, paper bag onto the centre of the table.

She gazed at him mutely, not knowing how to respond to his sudden arrival. He had yet to reveal his opinion regarding the picture in the paper and Harry did not want to contemplate what he was currently thinking about her. An image of his long-time enemy snogging his best friend would not have gone down well with him. But when he gave her a tiny smile despite the obvious awkwardness in his eyes, Harry dropped her guard a little and attempted to smile back.

'What is it?' She nodded at the bag in front of her.

'Chocolate éclairs, with compliments from the house elves.'

Harry gave a small chuckle. 'Madam Pince will skin us alive,' she warned him, remembering that time in fifth year when the vulture-like librarian had caught her and Ginny eating Easter Eggs in the library and had promptly chased them out.

'Better make sure she doesn't see us then,' Ron answered with a conspiratorial grin as he fished an éclair from the bag which he then proceeded to eat. 'Help yourself,' he added when Harry did not follow his example. 'You weren't in the ... er, I mean, you must be pretty hungry.'

She frowned. So, her absence from the lunch table had not gone unnoticed like she had somewhat childishly hoped for. Were there many others who were looking for her as well, maybe hoping to hold a cross-examination concerning that darned kiss?

But in spite of that, she was quite touched that Ron had taken the trouble to find her _and_ had also brought an impromptu lunch along with him. It was a heart-warming gesture that she had not been expecting and she flashed her best friend a warm smile in gratitude as she unwrapped one of the cream cakes.

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, sharing the éclairs between them. Harry suspected she would probably get an upset stomach later on from all the chocolate, but she did not care. They sated her hunger and she preferred eating with Ron to dining with everyone else anyway. The thought abruptly reminded her of her other best friend and she looked questioningly at the redhead.

'Where's Hermione?' There was a tight edge to her voice that she could not hide.

Ron quickly looked round at her. His relaxed face had tensed again.

'Great Hall, I guess.' After an uncertain pause, he ventured, 'She actually wanted to come with me, but I didn't let – I ... I mean, I reckoned, after what happened, you wouldn't want to ... you know ...'

Harry nodded sombrely. Ron had understood that part correctly. After what Hermione had done, she honestly did not feel like talking to her. At least, not yet. Yes, Harry did know that Hermione would not purposefully do anything to hurt her, and she realised that her friend probably had her reasons for sending her to meet Malfoy, but that did not mean Harry was ready to forgive her yet. Because it all boiled down to the fact that _none of this would have happened_ if it were not for what Hermione Granger had done.

A large amount of her resentment was aimed at Malfoy, too. Admittedly, what he had said the day before had considerably lessened her previous anger towards him. Harry had even allowed herself to wonder if there was something far deeper and significant behind their engagement, and, maybe, even his feelings towards her. That was before he had crushed his mouth against hers and her sense of logic had gone haywire.

But even still, she might have honestly given serious thought to his words and proposition if not for what had happened this morning. Now, her anger at him was slowly bubbling up again. It had not flown off the handle yet, but throughout the course of the morning, Harry had wondered more than once if that picture had anything to do with Malfoy. Could he have deliberately planted a photographer near the changing rooms? The notion completely contradicted everything he had confessed to her that day, but Harry still could not let go of that possibility...

Ron cleared his throat and Harry directed her attention back to him.

'So,' he began, looking uneasily at her, obviously about to address the issue he had been putting off all that time. 'About this morning...'

Bracing herself for the confrontation, Harry straightened in her seat.

He reached into his bag and extracted a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which he dropped in front of her. Harry glared at it.

'Did he force himself on you?' Ron asked in a hard voice, indicating the picture.

Not having been expecting to hear such a thing, she stared at Ron, taken aback. His expression was one of righteous anger and his eyes held a ferocious, protective glint. He did not think she was at fault, Harry realised, but only Malfoy – and that surprised her. She had rather imagined that Ron would assume she was "fraternising with the enemy" or something of that sort because of his fierce disapproval of their engagement, but obviously his thoughts ran on a different tangent. Now she felt a little guilty for having made such a presumption, but she still dreaded answering his question.

'I – I don't know,' Harry said, avoiding his eyes. 'I mean, he ... he was the one who started it –'

'Effin' bastard!'

'But I didn't push him away. I let him do it.' The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, as if desperate to be voiced before she lost her nerve.

Ron gaped at her, but did not say anything. Biting her lip and feeling ashamed, embarrassed and muddled all at once, Harry sank lower into her chair. The silence that had fallen between them lingered on and, when it finally became too uncomfortable, Harry said desperately without thinking,

'And please don't ask me if it was "wet" or anything!'

A look of utter disgust spread across Ron's face, but then he snorted. They looked at each other for a few moments, and then promptly burst into raucous peals of laughter. They guffawed so hard that Madam Pince soon appeared at Ron's shoulder and furiously hissed at them to quiet down. Chortling out apologies, they waved away the librarian who glowered at them and left, leaving the two Gryffindors wheezing and gasping for air.

'Where did _that_ come from?' Ron demanded, still snickering.

'No idea,' Harry replied sheepishly.

'Uh huh. So ... _was_ it wet?'

'Oh, shut up!'

They grinned at each other and Harry felt satisfied, glad that the earlier tense atmosphere had vanished. Nor did it return (at least, not in full force) when they grew serious again and Ron, palpably trying to sound as neutral as possible, asked with pressed calm,

'So, if Malfoy didn't force you – does that mean that ... you do like him after all?' His eyes betrayed his aversion to that concept.

Harry bit her lip, considering his question deeply, her thoughts leading to the happenings of the day before. At length, she answered,

'Before, I would have said _no_, but now ... I'm just so confused.' Meeting Ron's gaze, she struggled to explain herself upon seeing his mystified expression, 'Yesterday, Malfoy – before he ... you know, did _that_ – he told me some certain things that I haven't really given much thought to yet. But from a lot of what he said, I feel that I might have to ... I dunno, do a bit of re-evaluation or something on Malfoy. You get what I'm trying to say, right?'

'Uh huh.' Ron nodded, looking as baffled as before.

Frustrated, Harry continued, 'You see, all this time, I thought Malfoy hated me! But yesterday –'

'Let me guess. He said he didn't hate you?' Ron asked sceptically.

'Something like that. And people don't usually snog their enemies, do they? I mean, the way he kissed me –!'

Ron coughed loudly, shooting her a pained look that clearly said _too-much-info-shut-up_. Harry blushed, realising what she had been saying and quickly closed her mouth. They sat awkwardly like that for sometime before Harry tried again,

'So, what I'm saying is, I'm starting to wonder if everything about Malfoy is ... well, not what we thought they were. I need to really think about what he said, especially about a certain _request_ he made. And ...' She looked hesitantly at her best friend. 'I have no idea what conclusion I'll come to, Ron. It's all so confusing right now. But I want to know, if I come to a decision that ... you don't approve of ... will you...?' She left the question unfinished, apprehensively waiting for her best friend's answer.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, not looking at her. He took a few deep breaths and rubbed at his temple, clearly searching for words. After several heartbeats, in which Harry grew increasingly anxious, he replied in a low, fervent tone,

'Harry, you know I don't like Malfoy. And I don't trust him – at all.'

She nodded slowly in understanding.

'But that doesn't necessarily mean I don't trust your judgement.' Ron's eyes burned with a strange emotion she had never seen before. 'I've already made the mistake of not trusting you before, Harry, more than once. And ...' He glanced away, looking uncomfortable and rather shamefaced, 'I'm not proud of it and I won't do it again. Whatever decision you come to after your "re-evaluation" of Malfoy, I'll support you, even if I don't like it as you said.'

Harry looked at her best friend with overly bright eyes; a strange lump had formed in her throat. His words, though short, meant more to her than she could say and Harry reached forward and grasped his hand briefly, trying to convey the depth of her gratitude through her touch.

'Thanks, Ron,' she murmured and he smiled softly at her. After a few moments,

'But it's bloody weird to think that one day, you'll come up to me and say you like ferret-face,' he said in a chipper tone, trying to make light of things.

Harry laughed a little shakily. 'Not so fast. I might decide I do hate him after all. Who knows?' Her eyes fell on the newspaper. 'Especially if it turns out that that stupid photo was his plan all along. I'll string him up by his intestines then!'

She expected Ron to laugh and make a witty remark, but instead, he frowned slightly at her. 'I'm not so sure about that, Harry. Haven't you read the article yet?'

'No.' Raising her eyebrows, Harry picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and glanced at the by-line.

'"Rita Skeeter." Why am I not surprised that she wrote this?' Harry growled, turning contemptuous. She shoved the paper towards Ron. 'That cow! Going around taking pictures with her stupid photographer; isn't she bloody _banned _from Hogwarts grounds?! Now I seriously want to tell Kingsley that she's an unregistered Animagus! Let's see how she enjoys Azkaban.'

'I'm with you on that, mate,' Ron agreed, opening the paper to the rest of the report. 'But it's a little more complicated than that. See, Skeeter only wrote it, Harry, but it says here that she got the photo from an "unknown source." And, I dunno ... the way she writes, it kinda implies that neither of you knew about this so-called unknown source.'

'What?' Harry said blankly.

Ron looked grimly at her. 'Someone was out there taking pictures of you two going at it.' – Harry inwardly flinched at his choice of words – 'And Skeeter-cow makes it sound like Malfoy had nothing to do with it (though I wouldn't put it past him).'

She stared at the moving photo. 'But ... who ...? No one apart from us even knew I was meeting him!'

'Could it have been that crazy kid with the camera?' Ron asked thoughtfully. 'You know, the one who practically licks the ground you walk on?'

'Colin Creevy?' Harry looked gravely at him. 'He's dead, Ron. He died in the Battle here...'

Ron looked shocked and mortified. 'Sorry, didn't know,' he mumbled quickly, turning red.

Nodding understandingly, Harry focussed on the _Prophet_ again. _Who took that picture?_

_

* * *

_

By the end of the day, Draco could appreciate the horror Hariah Potter must have faced in the Great Hall during breakfast.

Though the idea of taking a sick day and staying in bed had greatly appealed to him after seeing the _Daily Prophet_ that morning (no, that does not count as hiding! Malfoys do not hide), he had forced himself to attend all his lessons that day (which had no connection whatsoever to the suspiciously Blaise-like voice in his head that had hissed, 'Wuss' at him).

The experience had been far from pretty.

Left and right, people had been either loudly exchanging thoughts about the article in front of him, or unabashedly coming right up to excitedly demand answers. Not even his death glares could discourage the gossip-loving airheads that dominated the corridors of Hogwarts. Over and over again they asked whether he was truly engaged to Potter and each time he had brushed past them with a glower or muttered a sullen, 'No comment.' It was a nightmare whose horror level, in his opinion, tallied with the prospect of the Dark Lord coming back to life and spontaneously deciding that it would be Draco Malfoy's sorry ass that he would dedicate his life to chasing all over the continent this time.

To his irritation and anger, Draco had also discovered that Blaise had been right about people believing Potter to be a "scarlet woman". His ferocious glares still had some effect to the point that the students did not mention this particular theory to his face or ask if he was cheating on his "actual" fiancée with the Chosen One, but he had picked up their whispered mutters in the hallways and classrooms. Their words awoke a deep and intense hatred in him every time and, more than once, he nearly ended up driving his fist into the faces of the gossipers for daring to slight Hariah Potter's honour.

He lost self control at one instant when a seventh year Hufflepuff, upon seeing Draco passing by, had loudly hissed in a mocking voice, 'Well, look who it is: Draco "inamorata" Malfoy. Wonder where his little concubine is.'

More overwhelming was his outrage at hearing Hariah Potter being referred to as a hussy than at the insult directed at him. Draco had actually moved to physically attack the surprised Hufflepuff (whose name he was pretty sure started with a Z) when Blaise, who had thankfully been present, had grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him away.

'Don't make a scene, for goodness' sake!'

'_Damn it,_ Blaise, let go of me! Didn't you hear –!'

'Of course I heard! What, you think I appreciate hearing two of my friends' being insulted? But you need to calm down! Things are already in an uproar as it is. The last thing you need is to start a fight now.'

Reluctantly, Draco agreed, but he considered himself lucky to have made it all the way to dinner without committing murder. Even the teachers – who obviously were as much notorious gossipers as any other student – had been staring all day, either out of interest or disapproval. This led Draco, for the first time in his life, to appreciate the epic wonderfulness of certain teachers, like Professor McGonagall who had merely barked at her students to finish off transfiguring their ferret-turned-weasels back to their original forms and left it at that; she had barely spared him more than a glance. Only a very few professors, like the tactful Flitwick, had channelled her teaching spirit instead of giving him the eye all throughout their lessons.

Draco was also concerned about how Potter was dealing with it all. However, he could not find out much about her. During the classes they shared, she maintained an emotionless visage and merely did her work quietly without speaking to anyone, not even her sidekicks. Nor had she looked his way at all and that made him feel rather uneasy. He also did not know how she was handling all the gossipers because not only did they have the good sense to shut their intolerable mouths during lessons, but he did not see much of his fiancée outside of his classes either.

Blaise was no help there. He simply shrugged and said, 'She didn't talk to me,' when Draco nonchalantly asked how Potter had been during Double Potions. (Strangely enough, Weasley said nothing to him during Potions either, though he did treat him to a murderous glare when Draco first approached their shared table.)

Finally, thoroughly annoyed, humiliated and somewhat worried, Draco went on one of his customary walks directly after dinner that night. To avoid the odd, wandering student, he climbed upstairs to the upper floors that normally stayed deserted even hours before curfew. Once he reached the seventh floor, he shrugged off his outer robes, slung them over his shoulder and slipped his hands into pants pockets as he strolled along the cool, dimly lit corridors. He tried to drown himself in the rhythm of his walking and empty his mind, but his thoughts refused to leave him alone.

His face twisted into a scowl as he thought about the article once more. _Rita Skeeter_. It was just typical that she was the one that had written it, as he had learnt earlier. But more than the reporter, it was the mystery photographer that really made his blood boil. Oh, if he ever got his hands on that filthy little blighter!

Not to mention those idiots saying that he was going behind his betrothed's back with Potter, the other woman! Draco's frown deepened. Why, Potter _was_ his betrothed. He had every right to kiss her if she had no objection to it.

Cheating, indeed. He scoffed contemptuously. Whatever they thought, he had _never_ cheated on his fiancée, because it had been Hariah Potter all along...

_Wait a moment._

Draco's steps slowed as a sudden thought occurred to him. Before he had found out the truth about her, back when he had still been searching, he had entertained some not-so-very-innocent thoughts about Potter ... hadn't he? With a cold, uncomfortable feeling, he hesitantly recalled the night when he had sensually teased her outside the Headmistress' office. He had felt attracted to her then; and for days afterward, that incident and Potter were all he had been able to think about. He had as good as forgotten about his engagement during that period, ever since the moment she had taken over his thoughts.

Why was that a problem? Draco chided himself. There was nothing wrong with feeling that way about Potter! She did get his ring, after all, so he had been attracted to his fiancée the whole time. He simply had not known that back then.

But ... wasn't that almost as bad as cheating on his betrothed? He had been having certain thoughts about Hariah Potter without knowing who had got his ring. He had not even thought about it. So, in a way, hadn't he been unfaithful to his unknown fiancée at the time...?

Draco groaned out loud. Oh, joy. _Now_ he was feeling guilty about something he had not even realised before back when it had actually mattered! At this rate, he would soon be going backwards.

_It's no longer an issue,_ he told himself sombrely and pushed those ramblings to the back of his mind. He now knew that Potter had the ring, which was all that counted. He had other more important things to focus on anyway. Blaise had been right about Draco needing to solve the current dilemma with the _Daily Prophet_ soon.

_But that's just the problem,_ he thought gloomily. When it came to Hariah Potter, nothing was easy as had already been proven before. The word "soon" did not exist in the Malfoy-Potter-complex dictionary, because, with Potter, he needed _time_ to work things out. He had to allow her to approach him at her own time, in her own way. To rush things would mean instant failure.

However, thanks to the nosy _Daily Prophet_...

He cursed them in his mind. Skeeter and that picture! They might have already ruined everything! With a sour look on his face, Draco sullenly wondered if Potter had given any thought to what he had told her the day before; but even if his sincere words had warmed her attitude towards him (which in itself would be incredible!) it seemed pretty darn inevitable that the newspaper would have set her anger off again.

Sighing, he rounded a corner, intending to complete one round of the seventh floor before returning to the Slytherin common room. He stopped short, however, upon seeing a small figure huddled on one side. It took a moment for him to recognise who it was and when he did, Draco felt his heart skip a beat.

Hariah Potter sat with her back leaning against the wall. Her legs were drawn close to her body and her arms were propped up on her knees. The moonbeams streaming in through the large windows facing inside bathed her in an otherworldly silver glow and the lit torches along the corridor added a tint of gold to the radiance, making her look ethereal.

Draco took an involuntary step towards her, but immediately stopped for his fiancée was abruptly joined by someone else.

* * *

It was with relief that Harry was able to escape the suffocating crowds of students that had ceaselessly surrounded her throughout the whole day. As soon as her classes were over, she fled to her dormitory to retrieve her Invisibility Cloak and, finally feeling free to actually breathe, she took off for the invitingly isolated corridors instead of the Great Hall which was sure to be packed with students having their dinners. Harry, too, felt hungry, but she had no appetite. Besides, she needed to think anyway.

Malfoy and his _request_ were her top priorities, of course, but instead, Harry found her mind assaulted with the whispers and mutters of her fellow classmates she had picked up earlier. She bit her lip as she wandered along the long hallways that were illuminated by the fading light of the setting sun.

_I still can't believe it_. If she had ever tried to envisage how people would respond to seeing her and Draco Malfoy snogging, then she would have thought the general reaction would be just shock and disbelief. _And_ that they would inevitably join the dots about the two of them being engaged – which, obviously, she did not want yet. As expected, astonishment and incredulity certainly had been part of the result, but what Harry had _not_ anticipated was the sheer amount of people who were more concerned with ... something else.

'Hoochie mama,' Harry mumbled under her breath. She had actually heard some students calling her a _hoochie mama_! Before today, Harry had never heard the term in her life, but there was no question that it was just another derivative of hooker, floozy and even "engagement wrecker" – all of which had been aimed at her back during the course of the day.

And those were only the more polite ones, mind.

'Morons.'

It was bad enough that people had been asking to her face whether she had anything going on with Malfoy, but being accused of being a nympho behind her back – and loud enough to be overheard too! – was the rotten cherry on top of the appalling-things-that-gossip-loving-airheads-would-do pile.

Especially when she discovered that Skeeter's article actually hinted at that same thing! _Typical._ Of course the woman would try to make her precious articles as juicy as possible – at the cost of other people's reputations and grace.

'Why couldn't have everyone just realised that I got that fricking ring and be done with it?' Harry complained out loud. There was no one present and her disembodied voice sounded eerie in the darkening corridors. Strangely, it felt good to voice her frustrations aloud and, gathering steam, she went on heatedly, 'But, _no_. They had to make this mess even more complicated and decided to believe that I'm a bloody strumpet and Malfoy's cheating on his "fiancée" by having an affair with me! What the hell, what is so hard to believe about _me_ beingthe one he's engaged to??'

She paused for a moment, thinking over her last words and then sighed. 'Alright, so maybe it might be a little hard for them to believe,' she allowed grouchily. 'Rivals for seven years and all that. But isn't it just as unlikely that two enemies would actually have an affair? How are they using their brains –??'

Still grumbling about the events of the day and the fact that she had another name to add to the list of titles she had already been called throughout her long years at Hogwarts (The-Girl-Who-Lived, Slytherin's Heir, Parselmouth, cheater, The-Girl-Who-Lied, The Chosen One, Our Heroine, and now Hoochie Mama – quite an impressive list), Harry continued to stomp along the deserted corridors until, at length, she collapsed against the wall and pulled off her Invisibility Cloak. Sighing, she made herself comfortable and quietly stared out of the huge windows opposite her which depicted a gorgeous twilight sky where the first stars were already coming out. From her position on the floor, she could make out a dim light towards the horizon and realised that the moon would soon rise.

Harry allowed herself to drown in the beauty of the scene and concentrated solely on the deepening blue and purple hues of the sky and the twinkling pinpricks that shone more and more brightly. But the distraction could last for only so long before Draco Malfoy filled her thoughts and, wearily, she prepared herself for a long and draining mental debate with herself. Trying to come to a decision on Malfoy's appeal to "get to know each other" would be no piece of cake; there were a lot of things that she had to come to terms with.

Starting with how Draco Malfoy actually felt about her –

'Well, if it isn't the little Chosen One.'

Annoyed, Harry whipped her head round to her right to glare at the intruder, irritably wondering why people found it so difficult to understand the plain concept of minding their own business. Her irritation was replaced with surprise, though, when saw the last person she was expecting.

'You ... why are you here?'

Glowing eerily white in the dim light, the ghost that had interrupted Harry floated down the corridor elegantly towards her and hovered to a stop a few feet away. Helena Ravenclaw. The Grey Lady, Ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. Her now familiar transparent face still sported the rather haughty expression the Gryffindor had seen when first they had spoken during the Battle, and she wound her insubstantial fingers through her long tresses as she answered coolly,

'I have the freedom of this castle. The question is better applied to you. Why are you here, Hariah Potter?'

'Wanted to be alone,' Harry said with a shrug and turned away. She was not in the mood for small talk with ghosts.

'Is that so.' It was a statement, not a question.

For several seconds, they both stayed silent, Harry wishing that she would leave, and the ghost simply watching her expectantly. After a long minute, when The Grey Lady stayed put, the Gryffindor raised her eyebrows and said impatiently, 'Yes, well, if that's all, could you please leave? I have a lot on my mind right now.'

Helena Ravenclaw scoffed and waved a delicate arm in Harry's direction. 'I was waiting for you to tell me what you did with my mother's diadem.'

Harry blinked, taken aback.

Rolling her eyes, The Grey Lady lowered herself closer to the ground and folded her arms. 'You already know that you are the only one to whom I revealed my past and the diadem's location apart from ... him.' A strange expression, almost like shame, crossed her face momentarily. 'I want to know how you put that information to use. After all, I doubt that _he_ did anything for the greater good of people when I told him where it was _._..'

'Hey,' Harry said quickly, a little miffed at her implied allegation. '_I_ did nothing bad with it, alright? Unlike Voldemort, who, like you said, only used it for himself and turned it into one of his Horcruxes.'

The Grey Lady was obviously familiar with the term for she looked shocked.

'Yes, he did.' The young witch nodded grimly. 'And he hid the diadem here at Hogwarts. I found the Horcrux and destroyed it.'

Helena's shock was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of indignation and horror. 'You actually...!'

'I didn't have a choice! It contained a part of Voldemort's soul! We couldn't have killed him without destroying the diadem first.'

That pacified the ghost somewhat, but her dismay at hearing the fate of Ravenclaw's most valuable possession did not completely vanish. Still frowning, she gave Harry a brief once-over and asked abruptly, changing the subject,

'And now what, Chosen One? Do you have some other Dark Lord and his _Horcruxes_ you need to vanquish?'

'Huh. What?'

'I ask because, this evening, you look just as desperate as when you came to me earlier this year asking about my mother's legacy.'

'Heh, no,' Harry answered, her lips twitching up in a humourless smile. 'If only that were so, because dealing with psychopathic, blood-purity obsessed lunatics that are after my skin seems so much simpler than handling egotistical men asking for my hand in marriage. At least I have more than enough experience when it comes to said lunatics.'

Despite her heavy sarcasm, her remark seemed to interest The Grey Lady somewhat. With a 'Hmm', she floated over to the window and, gazing at the rising moon, said fervently,

'I can sympathise with you in that respect, Chosen One. In my short life, I had my share of egotistical men _and _The Bloody Baron whose narcissism puts all the rest to shame, even now as a ghost in chains.'

'Right.' Harry could not help but chuckle at her derisive tone. 'But in my case, it's a little more complicated because now I'm wondering if this person really is so egotistical after all.'

The Grey Lady looked shrewdly at her with narrowed eyes. 'You are weakening and succumbing to your wooer?' She sounded almost accusing and Harry had a sudden mental image of a leering Malfoy pulling her to him with a lasso and evilly hissing, _'Come ... SUCCUMB TO ME.'_

Well, damn. That was just disturbing. And plain creepy.

'You should not surrender to unworthy courters,' the ghost continued severely. 'Nothing good will come of it.'

'I don't know about the unworthy part. But, his ... I suppose you could call it "confession",' Harry fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable about voicing such things, 'it sounded quite sincere to be perfectly honest.' The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth and Harry realised, for the first time, that she was actually admitting to herself that Draco Malfoy had seemed honest the day before.

Helena Ravenclaw, however, was unmoved. With a scoff, she said bitterly, 'The Bloody Baron, for all appearances, was sincere in his pursue of me, but you know what the outcome of that was.' She pulled her cloak closer about her and Harry avoided looking at her chest where, she knew, was a concealed knife wound.

After a few awkward seconds, Harry said quietly, 'This is different.'

'How so?'

In spite of the aloof, sceptical look on her transparent face, The Grey Lady was genuinely giving Harry her full attention and the Gryffindor had to wonder how she had ended up talking about _this_ with a ghost – and Helena Ravenclaw at that – of all people. But, without really knowing why she was doing so, Harry hesitantly began to tell her tale.

Withholding her "wooer's" name, she kept her narration short and to the point. Starting from the first impression she had of Malfoy years ago in Madam Malkin's, Harry briefly explained the hostile and caustic relationship they had shared all through Hogwarts and further added a few details she knew about Malfoy's short-lived but unpleasant Death Eater days. Then, having no other choice, she admitted that she had been "forced into an engagement" with her rival.

Though she had not said a great deal by then, Harry was feeling more at ease because talking about her dilemma with someone who was completely impartial felt greatly refreshing and seemed to lift a huge load off her chest. With a little more spirit, she continued earnestly,

'So, you can see what it was like. We hated each other before and when he refused to call off the engagement, I thought he was being an arse like always and wanted to control me. But then yesterday, my best friend tricked me into meeting him –'

Helena, who had not interrupted her till then, raised her eyebrows cynically and said, 'Your closest friend tricked you? Perhaps you should consider finding better and more considerate acquaintances.'

'Hermione meant no harm, I'm sure. I mean, she's _Hermione_!' Harry argued half-heartedly. She deflated when the ghost shot her a pointed look, and glumly admitted, 'Alright, so I'm not exactly happy with her. I haven't talked to her since yesterday actually. But that's not the point.

'What I'm saying is, I met this person yesterday and he ... said and did some things that, you know, you don't normally say or do to your rival. Also he did imply that,' she paused, remembering Malfoy's passionate kiss. Harry was not well-versed with romance, but even she felt that his unexpected embrace had been driven not by unwilling force, but by actual feelings – and, judging by how undeniably intense the experience had been, his feelings were deep and firmly rooted.

It felt incredible to be even thinking such things about Draco Malfoy!

'Yes?' prompted The Grey Lady, shaking Harry out of her thoughts as she floated towards her.

Inhaling a little shakily, Harry answered in a low voice, 'I think he was trying to tell me that he doesn't hate me ... and, for some reason, I'm beginning to wonder if he ever actually did hate me...' Because, Harry reasoned, if his feelings for her (if they really did exist; she still could not bring herself to believe it) were as intense as his kiss had been, then they could not have developed over a mere fortnight. It had to have taken so much longer; years, maybe. The thought sent a shiver down her back.

Looking unimpressed, the ghost asked dryly, 'And what exactly did this young man say or do to make you doubt the hatred you were convinced he harboured for you all these years?'

Harry shook her head slowly and hugged her knees closer. 'Let's just say he seemed pretty honest. He ... felt honest.'

Helena's eyebrows shot up at the last part. Floating over to the moon-bathed window again, she commented nonchalantly, 'Well, it appears you were quite right. Your problem concerning young Malfoy _is_ different than mine with The Baron.'

'Yes, I told y –' Harry froze. Slowly, she looked up at The Grey Lady. '... I never said it was Malfoy.'

Something like a smirk flitted across the ghost's pale face. 'We ghosts are quite knowledgeable of the happenings within this castle. And though I never had much interest in the lives of students, your notorious battles with Draco Malfoy throughout the years were impossible to ignore. So, did you honestly think I would not guess your fiancé's identity when you mentioned he was your rival? Especially considering the uproar that the newspaper put this school in today?'

It took several moments for Harry to realise that her mouth was open. She shut it quickly and scowled to mask her embarrassment. It should not be surprising that even a ghost she had spoken to only once before knew of her engagement, but it reminded Harry again of how much her privacy was exploited.

'Well, enough of that,' Helena Ravenclaw said airily. 'Focus on your main problem. What do you intend to do about the Malfoy boy? Since you seem to believe that he is sincere, are you going to accept his hand?'

Dropping the scowl, Harry answered quickly with a nervous chuckle, 'No, no, he said yesterday that this engagement isn't about marriage! He actually wants us to, er, get to know each other first. If it fails, then we separate. But if it works well, then ... um, the marriage part comes...'

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, feeling awkward again. Now that she was thinking rationally, Malfoy's proposal actually did make sense. Getting to know each other – wasn't that the base of every relationship? And, come to think of it, she herself had said during the Welcome Feast that Slytherins should be given a chance at friendship before they were condemned! That was basically what Malfoy was asking her to give him; a chance to learn about each other.

But it was still different because, not only did she suspect that his feelings towards her were very different from what she believed them to be, but also due to the fact that if the engagement actually worked out ... then he would ask her to _marry_ him ... wouldn't he? Such a thing happening was impossible to imagine and Harry could not conceive of marrying into the Malfoy family, but she had to accept that the possibility of that future did exist. It all depended on her choice.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm the turmoil in her mind. She had to come to a decision; there was no way to escape. But she had to choose carefully because it was so much more than just friendship that Malfoy was asking of her.

And there was still the question that, if the engagement miraculously turned out for the better and Malfoy really proposed to her (still unbelievably hard to picture) – what would be her answer? Would she accept him? Could she really spend her life as Malfoy's wife and the mother of his children –?

_Alright, stop._ Harry quickly opened her eyes, perturbed. She had looked a little too far into the future that time! However, she could not help but smile wryly when she suddenly remembered Ron's comment during the train-ride:

'_You _want_ to spend the rest of your life married to Malfoy and have a dozen or two of his little blond, smirking babies ...?'_

The scary thing was that such a future, however minuscule, was there in front of her. (OK, maybe not a _dozen_ babies, but still.) _All I have to do is say yes..._

'Ahem.'

With a start, Harry remembered that The Grey Lady was still present. She looked a little annoyed at being ignored, but upon regaining Harry's attention, the ghost raised her eyebrows expectantly at her.

Harry hesitated, still torn in two, but tried to answer the nonverbal question nevertheless, 'This is hard for me. To think that so many things I believed are only the opposite in reality ... but, I still can't deny what happened yesterday and I'd be a hypocrite to push him away without giving him a second chance ...' Nervously, Harry wrung her hands and attempted a smile that fell flat. 'So I think ... I mean, it can't hurt to ... spend a little time with ... Malfoy, right? I mean, who knows? It might go well or maybe not, and we ...' She stopped, realising that she was rambling.

Stalling, Harry glanced at her left hand. After the fire-incident during Potions, she had replaced her burnt glove with another one though she had not severed the fingers off this time. She pulled it off, exposing the white gold ring and stared at the sparkles the central diamond gave off in the moonlight. Though a gorgeous gem, underneath the beauty also was strength and solidity – and that was something Harry did want to achieve. She could not afford to remain uncertain and insecure.

For a long moment, Harry sat in silence, eyes locked on the ring before; at last, she forced herself to make up her mind. With a more determined look, she turned back to the ghost.

'I'll do it.' Her voice came out hoarse as if there was some residue reluctance within her. Grimacing, Harry cleared her throat and repeated more strongly, 'I'll do it. I don't know what will come of it, but I know it's only right to give him this chance. Else I'll only be a liar.'

The Grey Lady gazed expressionlessly at Harry. Her eyes had a touch of what looked like amusement, but she did not say a word. Instead, she turned her head very deliberately to her right and focussed her attention on...

Harry went cold. Her hands grew clammy and her clothes suddenly felt too tight. Involuntarily holding her breath, she glanced to her side, fearing yet already knowing what she would see.

He was several feet away, leaning sideways against the wall with his feet crossed. His robes were slung over one shoulder, the Slytherin green tie around his neck was loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Harry could not say what made her take note of his attire – maybe she was not ready to see his expression – but the casual yet charming image he presented would stay with her for a long time.

When she finally focussed on his face, goosebumps rose up her arms. Through the fringe of white blond hair that flopped down over his forehead, Harry could make out his eyes. Despite the distance, she could see them glinting silver in the moonlight and they were as intense as just before he had kissed her the previous day. But more than that, what really struck her was the upturn of his lips. They were curled up slightly and his face was not vacant as usual, but looked warm and almost ... happy?

A smile. A warm, pleased smile – at her. Her heart fluttered strangely.

It was then that Harry realised that Draco Malfoy had heard every word she had said.

* * *

'You look happy,' Blaise remarked bluntly when Draco entered their dormitory that night. 'That's strange. I was expecting your anger at the _Daily Prophet_ to last a pretty long time. At least a month, give or take a couple of days.'

Draco did not answer, but the small smile on his face did not fade as he flopped down on his bed. Not even reminders of Skeeter's article could drain the happiness and content he was feeling inside.

_She agreed_, he thought, still awed at what he had overheard. Seeing Hariah Potter conversing about him and their engagement with a ghost was quite unanticipated, but he really did not care or mind. All he could think of was his fiancée. She had actually said she would give him a chance! And, on top of that, her words about him had not been laced with anger or revulsion. They had been accepting ... even almost kind, despite her obvious uncertainty and hesitance.

He closed his eyes, completely in bliss.

'Draco?'

'Hmm?'

Blaise sounded amused. 'You look too happy. By chance, did you get another kiss from Harry?'

_Even better, though that would have been a nice bonus_. In fact, he had been tempted to take her in his arms back then, but for some reason, it felt too forward. He had been satisfied to just stand there, looking into her surprised, green eyes and know that things were slowly but surely falling into place. They had not exchanged any words. There had been no need to.

His thoughts were once again interrupted. 'Draco...'

Sighing, the blond sat up. 'What is it?'

Blaise aimlessly flipped through his Ancient Runes textbook as be answered vaguely, 'I'm not sure how to say this. You seem quite content and I would hate to burst your bubble –'

'Must you always speak like that? Get to the point!'

The brunet looked up, lips twitching. 'All right. Your parents sent you mail.' He threw a red envelope at his friend who quickly caught it. 'I suspect it has something to do with today's newspaper article.'

Frowning, Draco raised the red parchment. His frown immediately transformed into a look of horror when he saw the corners of the envelope beginning to smoke.

_Oh, great Merlin, no!_

A Howler.

* * *

Harry's mind was still full of Draco Malfoy's eyes and warm smile when she finally returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. She could not forget the look on his face. He had looked happy, really happy even if the smile had been slight. Did her acceptance of his request really mean so much to him? If so ... _it makes it sound like he really wants me_, Harry thought, feeling a little uncomfortable and yet oddly content.

Distracted, she climbed in through the portrait hole and was automatically about to climb the staircase to her dormitory when a voice called her name.

With a start, she turned to see Ginny Weasley approaching her, Ron and Hermione following in the background.

'What is it, Ginny?'

The Weasley girl came to a halt in front of her and, with a sly, triumphant smile, said, 'Listen, that picture in the _Prophet_ today was pretty darn amusing and all –'

Harry's mood immediately soured and she frowned. Before she could retort, however, Ginny continued,

'But I guess you couldn't really appreciate it –'

'No, really?' Harry said sarcastically.

'So, when I overheard a certain little attention-seeker excitedly talking about how they got their prize photograph printed in the news and was paid handsomely for it, I figured you'd want to know about that.'

The words sank in slowly. The black-haired girl gaped at Ginny, wondering if she had heard right. 'Wait, what?'

'I said –'

'Ginny,' Ron rolled his eyes. 'Just say it straight. Harry,' he looked grimly at his best friend, 'we know who took that picture of you and Malfoy.'

* * *

**A/N: Did I just accomplish a double cliffhanger? (If yes, then I beat you, SK!! Ha ha, take that! :D)**

**Right. Ahem. So, who do you think took the picture? And yes, Colin Creevy really is dead. He died in Deathly Hallows. So, he's not an option. Poor guy.**

**Also, a little word about the Harry-Ron interaction here. I guess some of you might think it OOC for the way Ron acted in the library (God knows how many people imagine him flying off the handle and breaking off his friendship with Harry for being with Malfoy), but this is my interpretation of his character: **

Throughout the series, he's shown to be immature and insensitive, but he does grow up even if it is slow. I see him as someone who learns from his mistakes. Like, in Goblet of Fire, his jealousy gets the better of him and he doesn't trust Harry enough to believe him about not putting his name in the Goblet. But he eventually accepts he was in the wrong and trusts Harry faithfully after that. It can be argued that he abandons Harry again in Deathly Hallows, but it is revealed that his negative emotions were amplified by the Horcrux which establishes that he wouldn't have left if he hadn't been wearing the Horcrux at the time. Also, Ron immediately regrets leaving and goes to great lengths to return. He always redeems himself and shows fierce loyalty to Harry.

So, Ron really cares. He's not approving of Malfoy, but the way I see it, in a serious situation where Harry may decide on something Ron may not specifically like, he will still support his best friend because he's learned to have faith in Harry. I don't see him as someone who will abandon Harry because of something so trivial as Harry choosing to be with Malfoy. He's matured and grown up (finally!). Also, like JKR said, Ron is flawed and has weaknesses, but "that's what makes Ron a man", which is what I tried to portray here.

**OK, I hope that monologue made sense. So, please click that pretty little REVIEW button and share your thoughts! I'd love to hear them! :D**

**NEXT: _CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A Few Answers_ (Still can't guarantee frequent updates, I'm afraid. But I'll try.)**


	18. A Few Answers and a Helluva Revenge

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

******A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I really appreciate everyone that took the time to comment on what they liked, didn't like and left me concrit for the last chapter. Thanks so much!**

******I know it's been forever and I could write a million valid excuses here, but that'd be just a huge waste. I'm just glad that you guys stick with me even during my sporadic updates and hope you understand when I can't update frequently, even though I want to. **

******DEDICATION: For _Plush_, who's crazy review filled with crazy ideas pulled me out of my crazy writer's block. *huggles Plush* Aww, thank you, this is for you (though I toned down the craziness ... a little bit :D)**

******So, happy reading! By the way, long chapter is _long._  
**

******

* * *

**

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A FEW ANSWERS AND A HELLUVA REVENGE  
**

'Harry, we know who took that picture of you and Malfoy.'

Harry stared at her best friend in blatant surprise and shock as his words gradually sank into her mind. A mixture of anger and curiosity, both vying for dominance, rose within her and she demanded hoarsely, 'Who is it?'

'See for yourself.' The dry, sardonic tone of Ron's voice sent Harry's interest soaring and she, along with Ginny and a still silent Hermione, quickly followed him as he led them up the stairs to the seventh year boy's dormitory.

'Neville and the boys were kind enough to hold him here for us,' explained Ginny upon seeing the mildly surprised look on Harry's face.

Ron nodded and threw open the door.

'GAH, HARRY! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!'

She had barely crossed the threshold when what looked like a blurry tornado flew across the room and engulfed her in a rib-cracking, suffocative hug...

Seamus_. Of course._

'You are the epitome of brilliance!' Seamus continued to shout enthusiastically in her ear, taking no notice of Harry's struggles to free herself. 'That picture was an _excellent _idea! You showed the whole school what it's like to interact with Slytherins with no shame –!'

'Er, Seamus?' Ron said pointedly.

'– and _what_ an example you set by publicly befriending your worst enemy! Showing everyone how you were willingly with Malfoy – it made my attempts at Inter-House Unity look so pathetic –!'

'_Seamus_.'

'You're my new idol! I swear, Harry, from today onwards, I shall take a leaf out of your book and –'

'SEAMUS!'

'What?' exclaimed the Irishman from where he had Harry in a near-headlock and was fondly mussing her hair like an uncle congratulating a favourite niece (and taking that image to a whole new extreme).

'You might want to keep your idol alive by letting her breathe,' Ron said, rolling his eyes while Ginny snorted with laughter at Seamus' antics. Even Hermione was biting back a smile.

Looking comically surprised, Seamus glanced down and finally noticed Harry trying to pull her face out of his sweater. With an 'Oops, sorry', he released her and the girl stumbled back, gasping for air.

'Damn, Seamus!' Harry exclaimed, rubbing her forehead that felt like it had been rubbed raw against his collarbone. 'Was squeezing that hard really necessary?'

'And I doubt that what the_ Prophet_ showed this morning counts as Harry "willingly befriending" Malfoy,' Ron added under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. She winced at the reminder.

Turning back to Seamus, Harry shook her head bemusedly at the grinning sandy-haired teen. Of course, only Seamus Finnegan would interpret the _Prophet_'s photograph in terms of Slytherin-Gryffindor "friendship" as opposed to Hariah Potter the Hoochie Mama – like everyone else. Speaking of the photo...

'Hang on,' Harry said suspiciously, squinting at the Irishman. 'Ron, are you telling me _Seamus_ is the one who did it?'

'Did what?' Seamus asked blankly as Ron quickly began to protest, 'Eh – no, no it's not –'

A loud and very obvious cough sounded from within the room right then and all five of them turned to see Neville and Dean seated on one of the four-poster beds. As soon as Dean caught Harry's eyes, he raised his eyebrows and looked purposefully at a corner of the bed on which sitting silently was one very jumpy looking –

'Dennis Creevey?' Harry stared at the small, scared teen with mounting disbelief.

The young fifth year reluctantly met her incredulous gaze and forced a panicky smile. 'Eh ... Hiya, Harry.'

* * *

In the years to come, Draco would remember his parents' Howler with an intense sense of mortification and would forever count it as one of the most humiliating things that had ever occurred to him. It ranked up there right alongside that incident in fourth year, when Professor Mad-Eye Moody had transfigured him into a white ferret in front of the whole school and had proceeded to bounce him up and down in the Entrance Hall.

Draco tried to think of an escape, knowing full well that it was too late now; he stared at the smoking red envelope, horrified and point-blank refusing to believe that his _parents_ had sent him such a monstrosity. Surely there must have been a mistake...

There was just enough time for Blaise to lock the dormitory door with a quick _Alohomora_ before the parchment burst into flames, causing Draco to drop it to the ground where it unleashed the nightmare within:

'_Draco.'_

The Malfoy heir blinked, surprised, as his father's voice sounded from the burning envelope, unnaturally quiet and calm.

'_I'm extremely disappointed in you.'_

Beginning to frown, Draco leaned forward to study the red parchment. Wasn't his father's voice supposed to be much louder than that, considering that it was a bloody _Howler_?

'_YOUR SCANDALOUS UNRULINESS HAS BROUGHT FURTHER SHAME ON OUR ALREADY TAINTED FAMILY!'_

Oh. Never mind, then.

'_YOU ARE WELL AWARE OF THE MADNESS WE HAVE SUFFERED THROUGH IN THE PUBLIC'S EYE THESE PAST FEW MONTHS AND HOW MUCH THAT HAS COST US! OUR FAMILY NAME AND FUTURE ALREADY STAND ON THE EDGE OF A KNIFE! I WOULD THINK THAT MY SON – TO WHOM I ENTRUSTED THE RESPONSIBILTY OF OUR WHOLE FAMILY – WOULD HAVE ENOUGH COMMON SENSE TO NOT TAKE RECKLESS ACTIONS AND EXERCISE CAUTION SO AS TO RETAIN WHATEVER GOOD NAME WE HAVE LEFT! YET YOU CARELESSLY BRING MORE HUMILIATION AND ALL OF IT LAID BARE IN THE BLOODY _PRESS_ FOR THE ENTIRE WIZARDING WORLD TO SEE –!'_

Draco was infinitely relieved when Lucius – who obviously had not taken well to a public photo of his son snogging a girl, fiancée or not – was abruptly cut off at that point. He breathed hard through his nose, shards of shame piercing him because, considering how all of Hogwarts had reacted, his father's accusation of him dishonouring the Malfoy family had some semblance of truth – at least, in the eyes of an aristocrat. To every noble and peer of the realm, he was something of a roué now, especially with so many people under the belief that Potter was his scarlet woman, not betrothed_._

What he felt above else, though, was defiance. It was hardly his fault, how was he to blame? He had had no idea that there had been a voyeur photographer at the time and everyone knew Rita Skeeter was a law unto herself anyway. Not to mention that Potter _was_ his fiancée, no matter what people thought. And Lucius was screaming at _him_?

The unfairness of it all barely passed through his mind in the few seconds of silence that followed his father's enraged tirade, and then another voice began to speak:

'_Draco, listen carefully to me, darling.'_

Well, of course. His mother would not let this go without her own say in the matters.

'_Your father is ... not very happy right now, but what he means to say, Dragon, is that...'_

Draco could not help but groan out loud. He should have seen it coming: Narcissa's attempts at sugar coating her husband's words. Biting back the urge to snap at the still burning parchment that he understood his father's words perfectly well without her sweetened interpretation thank you very much, Draco lay back on his bed, bitterly reflecting that the only good thing was that his mother was not shouting at him (though her Howler voice was still reasonably loud). But as she continued with her message, his heart did not feel any lighter because Narcissa Malfoy, though not one to put her anger into the volume of her voice, made her discontent with him clear in the depth and tone of her words.

'_The impact the _Daily Prophet_ picture left on the general public is not a good one, Dragon, as I'm sure you know if you've already read the news today. Most people are under ... well, false impressions concerning you and your fiancée and they want to expand on that. In fact, reporters have been flocking to our manor all day though I think your father's anti-trespasser hexes have scared most of them off,'_ she added, sounding mildly amused before becoming serious again.

'_In any case, this is a serious situation and not only because that picture is giving you and our family more bad publicity, Draco, but also because of what it has done to Hariah Potter.' _Narcissa's voice lowered a notch and grew graver._ 'Surely, you already know the rumours the _Prophet_ have started to spread about her today; they are untrue and unfair. I'm not going to accuse you of being responsible for it, Dragon, for I can understand that it was certainly not your intention to have it reach the newspapers. However, your father is right: you should have been more cautious and not divulged in such a ... activity where anyone can see you, as has been proven.'_

Draco just had to smirk at that. Trust his mother to refer to kissing as an "activity". He snorted, but his humour faded as his mother continued more severely,

'_You and your fiancée are at the centre of the public eye. People are keeping their eyes locked on both of you and you know this very well, Draco, but you were reckless. And, in the process, I believe you have done Hariah Potter a great wrong and I fear that it might have left a negative impact on your relationship.' _Narcissa faltered for a second, and then,_ 'I know that we left the decision to marry entirely up to you, Draco, but even if you do change your mind about her, at least pay her the courtesy of repairing the damage this situation has caused. I trust you to make the right choice.' _Narcissa's voice faded away, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

Slowly, Draco pulled himself up into a sitting position and glanced down wordlessly at the red envelope. It was nothing buta small pile of ashes and soot now. A light rustling sound reached his ears and he looked up to see Blaise with his nose buried in his Ancient Runes textbook, solicitously pretending that a Howler had not just exploded in their room.

'Drop the act, Zabini.' Draco rolled his eyes.

Without missing a beat, Blaise dropped his book onto his bed and opened his mouth to speak only to stop dead and stare at the locked door. Draco followed his gaze curiously. A few moments later, he could hear it as well: very low voices whispering and murmuring on the other side. His jaw clenched, realising what had happened.

'Our entire House just heard the Howler, didn't they?' intoned Draco rhetorically, resisting the urge to slap his hand to his forehead.

Blaise cleared his throat, appearing both amused and sympathetic. 'Your father's voice might have attracted them here, yes...'

And his mother's voice had been loud enough to reach the other side of their dormitory door, Draco knew. He sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that probably every Slytherin now knew the truth about him and Potter. _Would have happened sometime, anyway_, he mused. Maybe it was better this way, too. Now at least they would know that he was not a cheater and that Potter was not a bloody scarlet woman.

There was a tentative knock at the door. 'Um ... Draco? Blaise? Is everything all right in there?' Draco recognised Daphne Greengrass' voice.

'All fine and dandy in here, Daphne, don't you worry. Off you go now,' called Blaise breezily, which was definitely a better response than the rude 'Get lost' that had been on the tip of Draco's tongue.

It took a long time for the whispering voices outside the door to disappear; some Slytherins were probably hanging back, waiting to see if they could scavenge more juicy details about what they had just heard, but eventually, all was quiet.

Finally, Blaise turned to his friend. 'Your parents never really struck me as the Howler type,' he commented nonchalantly.

'They're not. This is the first time they've ever sent me a Howler. I can't believe ... But I suppose it shouldn't be all that surprising,' Draco said with a small frown. 'All the publicity and media have really got Father on edge lately, especially after his release. The picture pushed him too far, I guess.'

Blaise nodded slowly and glanced at the remains of the Howler. 'So...?'

Draco just shrugged, trying not to show that he was still a little humiliated. In all honesty, he had already been somewhat aware of everything his parents had said; the Howler had merely just driven it home. The only thing he had not considered was apologising to Potter; after all, he had not thought of himself at fault, so where was the need to say sorry, right? But ... he _had_ snogged her without her permission out in the open where anyone could have – and had – seen them, so...

_I hope she's in a talkative mood when next we see each other_, thought Draco gloomily. They needed to discuss exactly what and how to tell the public (though he suspected that the eavesdropping Slytherins would take care of that before breakfast was over the next day). He gritted his teeth, hardening his resolve and preparing for more obstacles that would be sure to ensue. After all, her earlier acceptance of him to give him a chance to be with her did not mean that everything was flowers and rainbows just yet. There was still a long way to go.

* * *

Fifteen minutes following her first sight of Dennis Creevey in the boys' dormitory, Harry was still trying to get over the surprise while simultaneously beating herself up for not having suspected him from the very beginning. He was Colin Creevey's little brother, after all. No doubt that Creeveys and cameras went hand in hand, in more than just one sense of the word.

'Let me get this straight,' she said with forced calm, pacing back and forth in front of the nervous fifth year. 'You were at the Quidditch try-outs yesterday, taking pictures –'

'Yeah, 'cause it was Colin's camera, the one he always carried around with him, like I already said,' Dennis interrupted, nodding vigorously. 'And he'd always liked photographing Quidditch –'

'Are you sure it wasn't just Harry he liked photographing?' asked Ron sardonically, making the rest of them chuckle apart from the girl in question.

Flushing red, Dennis stammered, 'I ... I dunno, maybe...'

Harry glared impatiently at him. 'Just ignore them. So you came to the try-outs and took pictures, fine. And then you, what, followed me to the changing rooms...?'

'You make me sound like a stalker,' muttered the younger teen, looking both hurt and defensive. 'I already told you: I just saw you going that way and thought I'd come and ask for a photo. I was hoping I could get you to sign it...'

For several seconds, Harry gazed at him, her earlier feelings of repressed anger lessening with a sudden bout of nostalgia. 'You sound so like Colin,' she said, averting her eyes.

'... Maybe I want to be like him,' said Dennis lowly, his voice acquiring a layer of sadness mixed with a hint of pride. 'He died fighting for you, you know. When Professor McGonagall told us we were going to war that night, he said that he'd stay back and fight even though he was underage. I wanted to stay too, but he wouldn't let me. He just gave me his camera and told me to go home and look after Mum. He promised he'd come back...'

There was a long silence during which the other three boys, Ginny and Hermione looked at Dennis with varying degrees of pity while Harry squirmed uncomfortably, battling a myriad of conflicting emotions.

'I'm sorry about Colin, Dennis, I really am,' she said slowly at last. 'He was a good person and didn't deserve what happened, but now is not the moment to talk about it. I just want you to tell me the truth about why you went to the _Prophet_ with that picture –'

'Look, I'm really sorry about that,' said the younger teen with a hint of desperation. 'I didn't mean to hurt you or anything, Harry, and it's not entirely my fault. It was more her idea –!'

'Who's "her"?' interrupted Harry, narrowing her eyes.

Coughing self-consciously, Dennis spoke to his knees. 'Well ... um. After I took the photo, I ran into a couple of girls near the Quidditch pitch. One of them asked if I'd seen Malfoy because they thought they'd seen him down there and I –'

'Told them about Harry and Malfoy?' finished Ginny, who had been silent up until then. 'Dennis, that's just foul and tactless. You don't _tell_ people after you walk in on someone else's personal affairs, alright. Damn, you're worse than Ron and I didn't think that was even possible!'

'Hey!' protested her brother indignantly, but the rest of the Gryffindors ignored him, all of them in agreement with Ginny's point. Hermione, who still had yet to speak, had a look of disapproval on her face while Dean, Neville and Seamus – all of whom had been silently listening in with fascination – frowned at Dennis Creevey, the latter muttering, 'Mate, tattletales ain't cool.'

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' repeated the younger teen quickly, raising his hands in defence, 'but I couldn't help it, I was in shock! Seriously, how many of _you_ have walked in on two enemies snogging?'

There was a pregnant pause and then,

'You know ... he's got a point,' remarked Neville fairly, Dean nodding in agreement beside him.

'Yeah, I think I can empathise,' shuddered Ron. 'The picture alone nearly gave me a bloody heart attack –'

'What, you buggers never seen me with Millie?!' demanded Seamus, offended.

'Yes, well, you're you. Like some kind of weird alien life form that crash-landed here. You don't count.' Ron rolled his eyes.

'All right, enough already!' said Harry loudly. 'Go on, Dennis.'

Clearing his throat, Dennis began to speak to his knees again, 'Right, well, they didn't believe me at first. I mean, who would, right? And Malfoy had already walked away, so I couldn't show them first-hand proof –'

'I said it once, I'm saying it again: foul and tactless.'

'I already told you, I wasn't exactly thinking rationally,' said Dennis more loudly, shooting Ginny an irritated look. 'Anyway, these girls wanted proof and I just wanted to prove that I wasn't lying, so I developed the picture that afternoon itself and showed them. They were pretty upset ...' he added wonderingly, 'the one that asked me where Malfoy was, especially. Two of his fangirls, I suspect.'

'Alright,' said Harry, whose curiosity was still battling with the anger. 'Then the _Prophet_?'

'Yeah, about that ... when I took that photo, Harry, I never even thought about sending it to the press, I swear.' Dennis looked pleadingly at the raven-haired witch. 'It was the girl's idea, the one after Malfoy, I mean. I don't know what was up with her: when she saw the picture, she almost burst into tears and then she became really angry – nearly broke the camera, too – then she got this really strange look on her face and told me I should send it to the _Prophet_.'

'And you were convinced, just like that?' asked Ron, looking sceptical.

'She kept saying that there was no way Malfoy and Harry were engaged and that they were having a fling and some stuff about Malfoy's actual fiancée and others having the right to know and ... she also said that the papers would probably pay a lot of galleons for it,' he finished in a whisper, not daring to raise his eyes.

'So, you did it for the money?' Harry could not hold back the disgust that crept into her voice. .

'I couldn't help it,' Dennis protested weakly. 'I guess I should've thought about you, Harry, but we really needed the money. After Colin died, we're – we're just a mess. My dad's in St. Mungo's with a serious head injury – he came to fight here when he got the news that night – and Mum's being struggling, trying to work enough jobs to pay the medical bills and – and ... I just thought I'd take a shot and see if the _Prophet_ would pay up. I'm sorry,' he repeated, finally meeting Harry's gaze, ashamed but undeniably sincere. 'I'm sorry. I should've thought of you; Colin would have. I'm really...'

Harry gazed at Dennis, now at a loss for words. This was hardly what she had envisioned at all. In her mind, her encounter with the mystery photographer had consisted of a faceless, malicious, gossip-loving git eager to get a scoop on her and Harry retaliating for what they had done (siccing Ginny and her legendary Bat Bogey Hex on them seemed like a pretty good idea). She had not imagined Dennis Creevey, still tiny at sixteen, eagerly following in his brother's dubiously nosey footsteps and looking at her with genuine regret. That was not to say that she was not angry, though; she still was, but could not bring herself to act on it.

'So,' Dennis ventured apprehensively, 'am I ... off the hook?'

Torn between saying yes and no, Harry shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes and, more to change the subject than out of actual curiosity, asked, 'Who were the girls you met?'

'Seventh year Ravenclaws.' Dennis shrugged. 'Didn't get their names, but the girl that was asking about Malfoy – her friend called her Lisa, I think.'

There was a sharp intake of breath and, for the first time since Harry had met up with her and the two Weasleys in the Common Room, Hermione spoke, 'Lisa? Lisa Turpin? The girl that was harassing Malfoy in our first Charms class?'

An image of a simpering, honey-blonde haired girl flashed through Harry's mind. Her eyes darkened. 'Oh, now it makes sense.'

Ron snorted in amusement. 'Yeah, the one that wants to be Mrs Malfoy so bad. She saw the photo and probably wanted revenge on you two.'

'Thank you, Sir Obvious,' said Ginny impatiently. 'So, what are you gonna do, Harry? You're not going to just let them get away with exposing you like that, are you?'

'Wouldn't make much of a difference now, would it?'

'Hang on,' spoke up Dean suddenly, the tone of his voice making it clear that he was about to ask something he had held in for sometime. 'What does this all mean then? Are you really having some sort of thing with Malfoy like Skeeter said, Harry? Or are you his...? His eyes darted to her left hand, which was still in her pocket, fortunately. At his question, Seamus, too, gave Harry his undivided attention whereas Neville, already aware of her secret, simply watched on curiously.

Harry thought for a moment. On one hand, she hated being labelled as a hoochie mama, but on the other, she could predict that some of the brainier kids would probably move on from the Hariah-Potter-Scarlet-Woman theory soon and they would ask the same thing Dean had. Which was better? Remain labelled as a scarlet woman or reveal the truth – neither of which appealed to her.

'I'm not having an affair with him,' she replied shortly. Leaving the last part of Dean's queries deliberately unanswered, she turned back to the Weasleys and Hermione. 'Like I said, I don't think there's much I can do at this point.'

'I can hex Lisa Turpin for you,' offered Ginny with a disturbing degree of enthusiasm. She whipped out her wand. 'And Dennis, too.'

'What?' yelped the horrified fifth year.

'No, leave it. In any case, Skeeter's the one I want to get most. _She's_ the one who labelled me as some sort of floozy, after all.'

Ron frowned. 'And how're you gonna get her? Blow up the _Daily Prophet_?'

Dennis cleared his throat loudly, interrupting them. 'Can I go now?' he mumbled, eyeing Ginny's wand warily.

Sighing, Harry nodded. 'Yeah. G'night, Dennis.'

Looking immensely relieved, the boy quickly jumped off the bed. He was halfway out of the door when he suddenly stopped and glanced back. 'Again, Harry, I'm really, really sorry...'

Harry met his eyes expressionlessly. She could tell that he wanted to be told that he was forgiven, but her earlier fury – though thoroughly suppressed – was still raw within her.

'I know,' she finally answered, not unkindly and turned away.

* * *

Harry's prediction came true the very next day. After the initial buzz of _Oh-my-God-Malfoy-and-Potter-having-an-affair-Daily-Prophet-says-so _had died down slightly, an increasing number of students were beginning to question whether there was another side to the story. Slowly, a sly whisper began to circulate the corridors of Hogwarts; a whisper that said maybe, just maybe, the Chosen One was the much talked about fiancée of the Slytherin ice prince.

Having had already anticipated that, Harry took care to wear gloves on both hands that morning; hiding only her left hand was bound to bust her secret now that people were actually suspicious (Blaise was living proof of that). Her precaution paid off for many an eye flicked towards her fingers all throughout the morning and though the sight of the gloves must have surely raised their suspicions more, no one could confirm anything either. Not to mention that she could always say she was feeling cold if anyone asked; it was Autumn, after all.

Furthermore, Ron's incredible fluency in cursing and threats turned out to be a Heaven sent blessing. Harry found there was no need for her people-repelling evil-eye while he singlehandedly kept the excited students wanting to question her at bay with just a sharp sentence or two, some of the politer ones being, 'Want your legs intact? Then walk away, scumbag' and 'Ugh, close your trap, woman, the reek might kill us all!' (He nearly got slapped at this point and resorted to less insulting language when dealing with girls.)

By the time lunch rolled around, Harry's head was throbbing and not because of her scar, either.

'I'd really hoped that no one would know or suspect anything until Malfoy and I'd figured this thing out,' she said gloomily, pushing her food around. 'Guess it was too much to hope for.'

'What'd you mean, figure it out?' asked Ron, busily shovelling shepherd's pie into his mouth. On his other side, Hermione – to whom Harry had yet to speak since the newspaper incident – looked up from her plate curiously, but refrained from saying anything.

Harry looked round at them, blinking, then remembered that she had not confided in her friends the decision she had come to the night before. Trying to sound casual, she drawled, 'I decided to give Malfoy a chance.'

Predictably, Ron choked on his latest mouthful of pie. Prepared for it, Harry slid his goblet of pumpkin juice closer to him and Hermione worriedly thumped his back.

'What?' Ron gasped when his airway was clear. 'Are you serious?'

'Yes.' Harry lowered her eyes. 'Remember what I told you yesterday? About the way Malfoy had acted and what he said?'

'Yeah, something about him not hating you and a request ...' Ron looked shrewdly at Harry. 'Is this what you meant, when you asked if I'd be OK with you making a choice that I wouldn't approve of?'

Harry nodded wordlessly.

Ron stared at her, eyes impossibly wide. 'Blimey, you were serious ... so – so, you did your "re-evaluation" of Malfoy and then chose to marry him?!'

'No, I didn't say I'd marry him,' she began to explain in a low voice. 'But I did do a _re-evaluation_, yes, and I figured that maybe,' she shrugged, feigning nonchalance again, 'there was more to Malfoy and this engagement than I thought.' She almost added 'and his feelings towards me', but decided against it. Clearing her throat, she continued matter-of-factly, 'So, I decided to prolong the engagement, learn the truth and see how it plays out.'

Ron was still gawking at her, dumbstruck. Harry could not blame him, though. A few days ago, she had been feeling exactly the same way. To his credit, though, Ron stayed true to what he had said the previous day and simply accepted her admission, though with difficulty. He took a moment to collect himself and nodded stiffly at her before proceeding to smooth over his shock with several goblets of ice-cold pumpkin juice, which he downed faster than Buckbeak could choke down dead ferrets. Harry watched his antics with a mixture of amusement and gratitude that he had accepted her choice willingly ... enough.

Harry's eyes slid past Ron to Hermione; she had returned to her lunch, but the smile on her face was unmistakeable.

'This is what you wanted, isn't it?' Harry said sharply. 'When you made me go and meet Malfoy on Sunday?'

The bushy-haired girl, who looked thoroughly taken aback that her best friend was speaking to her again, blinked at Harry for several seconds before computing her words.

'Oh ... um,' she bit her lip, avoiding the other girl's eyes, 'I guess you could say that...'

A long minute passed in which Harry simply looked at Hermione while Ron fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable with the sudden tension that was thick in the air.

Frowning, Harry finally spoke, 'And why were you so desperate for me to give Malfoy a shot? Last time I checked, you hated him.' But then another thought occurred to her and her frown deepened, recalling how giggly Hermione and Ginny had been when first they had learnt of the engagement. It had seemed like both of them really enjoyed the idea, but surely Hermione had not honestly wanted her with Malfoy ... had she? It was not like her.

With a sigh, Hermione put down her knife and fork, and turned to face Harry fully. 'I did and I'm not saying I particularly like him now. But then I realised you might miss out on a lot if you just push him away without hearing him out.'

'How'd you reckon that?'

'I spoke with Malfoy earlier...'

Harry scrutinised her perceptively. 'You're not going to tell me what he said, are you?'

'No,' replied her friend, looking just a little apologetic. 'I want you to find out for yourself; and now that you're giving him a chance, I'm sure you will.'

The other girl, however, was still unsatisfied. After another silent minute went by, she said darkly, 'All right, fine, I'll take your word for it. I know you had your reasons, but you do know that I don't appreciate what you did, right?'

'I know,' Hermione nodded sombrely. 'But I didn't see Dennis there. I didn't know it would backfire.'

Harry wanted to tell her that even without Dennis Creevey and his camera, it might have backfired, but then she remembered what an impact those several minutes with Malfoy had had on her life. She had discovered a whole new side of him ... or maybe, it was an old side and had simply been hidden from her eyes before. And it was for that side that she had opened her mind to the near-impossible possibility of a future with Draco Malfoy, right? She dropped her eyes, exhaling. The thought still made her queasy despite the choice she had made.

Hermione and Ron were both watching her uncertainly. Biting her lip again, the former leaned forwards and said softly, 'I'm really sorry about everything, Harry. I know you're very angry with me, but I really did want things to turn out for the best, and I hope they will...'

Harry nodded in silent acceptance of her words.

'Am I forgiven then?'

With a grim smile, the other girl looked up directly into Hermione's eyes and answered bluntly, 'No, not really.' At seeing the crestfallen look on the other's face, she added a tad more kindly, 'I don't hate you or anything, Hermione, but you shouldn't have gone behind my back. The very least you could've done is respect my feelings and talk to me first. And now with all this stupid _Daily Prophet_ business ... but ask me again later.' Her lips curled up in a tiny yet affable smile.

Looking both resigned and a little happier, Hermione returned the gesture. The tension around them considerably eased and all three of them returned to their lunches, more relaxed than before. The peaceful atmosphere, which felt a little strange after all the chaos of the past couple of days, lasted all the way to dessert until a small, sealed parchment appeared at Harry's elbow, startling her.

'How do they do that?' she muttered, picking it up. She could remember the last time she had received a note that way, which was when Malfoy had summoned her to meet his mother.

'Who?' asked Ron, peering interestedly at the scroll along with Hermione.

'Whoever sent this,' grunted Harry, reaching for her wand to unseal it. 'Don't people need owls anymore?'

'It might be house-elf magic,' murmured Hermione thoughtfully. 'It's more convenient than the wizard kind since they don't need wands to channel their magic and energy. A teacher can just give it to an elf and, _poof_, instant delivery.'

'Did you honestly just say _poof_?' sniggered Ron. Hermione ignored him.

Harry quietly read the note and a tired look immediately grazed her face. 'McGonagall. She wants me in the Transfiguration class. Now.'

* * *

Draco had not thought that his patience could be pushed further on edge. The morning had already proven to be a hassle what with nearly all the Slytherins hissing like snakes – pardon the pun – behind his back about the Howler they had overheard the night before. To his surprise, the news had not spread through Hogwarts like wildfire yet. It was only circulating among his housemates so far (were they still digesting the information? Really, was it that hard to believe even after they had seen him snog the woman?), but he knew it could not be too long now. He seriously needed to talk to Potter before the whispers inevitably reached the Gryffindors; he had a feeling that she would not be pleased to have their secret completely bared before she had a say in it. Or, at the very least, before she was mentally prepared for it.

And so had the morning passed with him stressing over everything that had happened and things that had yet to happen. Then, on top of all that, halfway through lunch where he was trying to drown his anxiety in delicious beef casserole, he received a summons from the Headmistress. As if he didn't already have enough things to worry about.

Blaise, being himself, simply shrugged and waved him away with an airy, 'Be a good little boy then, Drakie poo' just as a group of third years were passing by them. Draco left the Great Hall with their high-pitched giggles still ringing in his ears and an image of Blaise' smug face (he had dodged the undignified punch the blond had thrown at his head) plastered in his mind.

Within minutes, he arrived at the small office behind the Transfiguration classroom, which McGonagall still owned, apparently. Two personal offices; lucky woman.

'Enter,' answered the Headmistress' crisp voice when he knocked and Draco pushed open the wooden door only to be met with a pair of vivid green eyes staring at him, filled with surprise.

'Ah yes, Mr Malfoy,' said Professor McGonagall, looking up from the scrolls of parchment she had been pushing aside. 'Thank you for coming without delay. Have a seat.'

Filled with uncertainty, Draco slowly walked towards the remaining vacant chair beside Hariah Potter, unable to take his eyes off her. She met his gaze square on, still looking a little taken aback and slightly questioning at his appearance.

'I'm sorry to have interrupted your lunch,' continued McGonagall and the other two turned to face her. 'But I decided to get this over with quickly since she's been, quite frankly, a thorn-in-the-side this past twenty-four hours.'

'She?' echoed the two students in unison.

Acquiring a harassed and irritable look, the Headmistress elaborated, 'Rita Skeeter has been badgering me to allow an interview ... with the both of you.' She did not look surprised at the furious twin expressions of outrage that crossed their faces.

'I have not given her an answer yet since you,' she nodded at Draco, whose eyes were still sparking ferociously, 'requested of me that no more reporters be allowed in without your prior consent.'

Draco nodded stiffly, trying to hide his fury. He had a good hunch why Skeeter wanted to question him again: after turning the world upside-down with the photograph and her wild speculations about him and Potter, she now probably wanted to know the actual truth. Either that or she was trying to get her claws on something else that she could fabricate into one of her outrageous stories. _Not a chance_.

'I haven't changed my mind, Professor,' Draco told her resolutely.

The Headmistress nodded in understanding before she turned her attention on the Gryffindor. 'And you, Miss Potter?'

Draco glanced at her to see that she was barely listening to their teacher. Instead, her head was hung low and her hands were balled into tight fists on her thighs, shaking with what he presumed to be anger. Leaning in a little closer, he could hear her growling under her breath, '... _that woman_ ... hasn't she done enough damage already ...'

Well, it would seem that Potter was thinking along the same lines as he was. Huh. That was something you didn't see everyday.

Professor McGonagall called on Potter again, more sharply this time.

'No,' she replied coldly at length, slowly looking up. She said nothing more but the cold fury and loathing she put in that one syllable was overwhelming. At that moment, Draco was very glad that he was not in Skeeter's six-inch high-heeled sparkly shoes.

The Headmistress eyed them closely, narrowing her eyes. 'You are certain?'

'Yes,' snapped the Slytherin and Gryffindor in identical irate tones, the rudeness of which Professor McGonagall chose to overlook – a pure sign that even their stern teacher could empathise with their intolerance of the tiresome reporter.

'Very well, then. You're dismissed. I'll notify Rita Skeeter of your answer soon.'

The two of them left in silence, Draco still inwardly seething. He felt a stab of relief that he had earlier gotten Professor McGonagall to prevent more reporters from seeing him again without his knowledge, but he had to marvel at Skeeter's nerve, showing up again. Where did she get the gall to even think about facing him – them – after the havoc her sneaky words had wreaked? Beside him, Potter was muttering to herself again as they stepped out of the office, barely audible enough for him to catch a few words:

'Oh, what I wouldn't give to get her. She's gone too far ...!'

The blond paused momentarily, wondering if now was a good time to cut across her livid soliloquy and breach the subjects he most wanted to talk to her about, mainly their engagement and how to deal with the public. There was still a few minutes of lunch left and he had no idea when next he would be able to get her alone like this, but upon seeing the peculiar manner in which her fingers were twitching toward her wand pocket, he changed his mind; he did not relish the idea of having his behind fried if his fiancée spontaneously decided to vent her rage on him.

Still debating the best course of action, Draco was about to take the safe path and walk away (surely, he could always corner her later) when suddenly, he found himself abruptly yanked back by the hand. He stared around at her, all thoughts flying out of his mind and every nerve in his body alerted, as his gaze locked on her long, gloved fingers wrapped tightly around his own. His mouth went dry.

Potter, however, had not realised the effect her simple action was having on him. In fact, she barely seemed to comprehend that she was holding Draco Malfoy's hand and what a bizarre image that created. Her eyes were aflame with excitement as if she had had a sudden idea and her lips were curling up in a malicious smile that looked infinitely out of place on her face. For a moment, he forgot about the feel of her hand as his interest immediately sparked at her alien expression.

Still smirking dangerously, she said, 'I take it you're not pleased with that Skeeter cow either, Malfoy?'

'Not at all,' he drawled, puzzled.

'And you wouldn't mind seeing her get a taste of her own medicine?'

'I'd find that terrific, actually.'

'Brilliant! You're with me, then.'

Before Draco could even open his mouth to ask what she meant (or digest the fact that they just had their first civilised conversation, which revolved around Rita Skeeter – not the most romantic topic), she tightened her grip on his fingers and bodily dragged him back into McGonagall's office.

'On second thoughts, Professor, we would _love_ to meet Skeeter!'

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry burst into Greenhouse Four, panted an apology to a disapproving Professor Sprout for her tardiness and rushed to the back of the room where Ron and Hermione had saved her a place at their table.

'What did Professor McGonagall want?' asked Hermione at once, looking up for the shrivelled-looking plant they had been pruning.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Harry briefly recounted Rita Skeeter's request. She had barely finished when Hermione spoke again, looking nearly as furious as Harry had initially been in McGonagall's office,

'She wants another interview? Oh, it's just like last time when she was bugging around the castle, trying to get a scoop on Viktor and me. She doesn't know when to quit!'

'Well, she did get quite a scoop on you and _Vicky_,' Ron muttered, rolling his eyes darkly. Hermione shot him a look at which he quickly rephrased, 'I mean, the nerve of that woman! And come to think of it,' he added, frowning, 'didn't you say she agreed not to write more lies about Harry?'

'Yes,' said Hermione tartly. 'Because I threatened to expose her little secret if she did, in fifth year. That was back when people were still denying that Voldemort had returned. But considering those recent articles about Harry and Malfoy, I suppose that she thinks she's free to write what she wishes again now that Voldemort's gone.'

'Not for long,' announced Harry. She grinned broadly at the surprised looks that grazed her friends' faces.

'What do you mean?' Ron asked slowly, a slow smile breaking through his confusion as he eyed the jubilant gleam in her eyes.

'Skeeter's had her fun and now she's taken it too far. I'm sending her down the drain.'

'Excellent! So, blowing up the _Daily Prophet_ is on now?'

Hermione rolled her eyes while Harry laughed. 'No, not quite that dramatic, Ron. But I was thinking...' Lowering her voice, she leaned forward and began to whisper her idea to them. It had occurred to her outside the Transfiguration office when she had remembered how Hermione had once suffered at the reporter's hands and how she had gotten her revenge. However, Hermione had used blackmail to her advantage; Harry planned to take it up a notch. A really big notch, if that made any sense.

The plan was still rather sketchy since she had made it up on the spot. There were rough parts and absolutely no guarantee that it would work; chances were probably a mere fifty-fifty. But if it turned out well, then the consequences would be blissful, satisfying and long-lasting.

Ron and Hermione were of the same opinion when Harry finished.

'Whoa, that sounds really simple,' murmured Ron, somehow managing to pull off a look that was both dubious, yet impressed.

'Yes,' Hermione agreed thoughtfully. 'Simple ... and really effective if you can pull it off, but what are the odds, Harry? What makes you think Skeeter will fall for that?'

'I'm banking on her flaunting attitude,' Harry said. Her cryptic reply was met with two pairs of raised eyebrows and she further explained, 'Think about it. Her articles tend to be rather forceful, don't you notice? She usually makes up lies and drops heavy hints, but she ....' Harry had to pause and search for words; explaining Rita Skeeter was a difficult task. '... she sort of _pushes_ her hints and implications on the readers, as if she's determined to prove her point even if it's all between the lines; just like how she implied that Malfoy's been cheating with me. You know? And she makes everything sound so real, it's like she's trying to show off that she knows so much more than the rest of us. It's very attention-seeking.'

'So, basically, you're saying that Skeeter's a show off – that does sound true, actually – and you're depending on that "flaunting attitude"?' Hermione paraphrased.

'Yes!'

'But the _Daily Prophet_ articles and what _you're_ going for involves two very different kinds of "flaunting attitudes".'

Harry's smile faded a little. 'I know ... but it's the only weak spot of her that I know, and I have no idea how else I can get her to do what I need.'

'Say that she doesn't fall for it,' Ron said. 'Then what?'

'Well ... blowing up the _Daily Prophet_ is still a valid option ...'

Ron and Hermione both chuckled at her weak joke. 'Well, all right, we'll go along with it,' the latter said, smiling. 'What do you need?'

Harry smirked. 'Luna Lovegood and Dennis Creevey.'

* * *

After Potter had abruptly announced to Professor McGonagall that she and Draco would meet Rita Skeeter after all, she left him speechless in front of the Transfiguration office with the parting words, 'By the way, we're going to need Blaise for this. He and I have to meet up tonight to work on our Verita Potion anyway, but tell him to come earlier so I can explain the plan to him.'

Only problem was that Draco had no idea what the plan was. She obviously wanted some form of revenge on Rita Skeeter, which he wholly supported, and she was also involving him in it for reasons unknown (not that he was complaining – he wanted to be involved with her, after all, in more ways than one), but what was he to _do_ when he had no idea what he was supposed to do? She could have at least filled him in.

Nevertheless, he passed on the message to Blaise during dinner that night and his friend left for the dungeon classrooms with a bemused look on his face that was replaced with a smile full of anticipation when he returned to their dormitory room some two hours later. Draco looked up from his Astronomy homework expectantly, waiting for the other Slytherin to confide in him, but Blaise simply flopped onto his bed and said,

'You know, she's got a sly bone in that noble body of hers. I rather like it.'

'I see. So ... she told you her little plan?' prompted Draco, masking his eager curiosity.

Blaise nodded, smiling broadly. 'Oh yes, and "little" is right. It's simple and straightforward with a lot of bitter consequences for old Rita Skeeter if it works well. But there lies the problem: Harry said she knows very little about Skeeter to work with. According to her, there's as much chance that it might fail as much as it might succeed. And on top of that, it turns out that the bulk of potential success depends on _me_.' He shook his head, looking partly amused and partly doubtful.

'You?' repeated Draco, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes, I'm playing the biggest role here and I'm not supposed to talk about it,' he added, seeing that Draco was about to question him, 'because, apparently, it all depends on how well I lure her into the trap and that'd work better if fewer people knew what I was up to. It sounded pretty easy when Harry told me what to do, but who knows ... hmm ... I hope she's right about Skeeter's "flaunting attitude"...'

By the end of Blaise' explanation, Draco was completely lost. His brows knitted together in confusion and some annoyance that even Blaise knew more about the situation than he did when it was supposed to be _his_ revenge. His and Potter's. She had said that they were in it together, hadn't she?

_It doesn't feel like it, so far._

'Fine, so you've got the details about your part. Brilliant. Now, about me: what's my role in all this? Did she say?'

Blaise gave him a look of genuine surprise. '... you have a role?'

That was when Draco threw all of his Malfoy pride and dignity out of the nonexistent dungeon window and let his head crash onto his desk with a _BANG _that more than expressed his irritation.

Nevertheless, he was determined to get a full explanation from Hariah Potter and set about it the very next day. If he was "with her" on this, then he deserved that much, at least. He intended to corner her straight after Transfiguration before lunch, but before he had so much as made a move towards her at the end of the lesson, Professor McGonagall called across the clamouring classroom,

'Potter, Malfoy, a word, if you please.'

Exchanging a look with Blaise, Draco approached the teacher's table where he was joined by his fiancée who, unlike him, was watching the Headmistress with questionable keenness. Many of the other students peered interestedly at them as they passed, a few even slowing down to eavesdrop, but a severe glare from McGonagall soon sent them scurrying. When the room was empty at last, she turned to the two students and said curtly,

'I passed your answers along to Rita Skeeter. She's very pleased and wants to hold the interview immediately and requested that it be tonight. Do you have any objections?'

Draco was on the verge of saying yes, he was not prepared for it when Potter said brightly, 'No, tonight would be perfect, Professor.'

'What about you, Mr Malfoy?'

Honestly not in the mood to face Skeeter so soon and still frustrated that Potter had told him nothing of her plan yet, he opened his mouth to answer, but his fiancée beat him to the punch. She leaned very slightly into his side and the next thing he felt was a sharp sting on the back of his leg. Draco started, infinitely surprised. Had she just _pinched_ him?

'Mr Malfoy?' repeated Professor McGonagall impatiently, not seeming to have noticed what had transpired between them.

Before Draco could try once more, Potter acted again, but this time, she reached for his fingers and squeezed – extremely hard. Fortunately, they were standing close together and their long robe sleeves obstructed the action from view, but Draco had a hard time maintaining his neutral expression as she tightened her grip. He shot her a glance to see her gazing at him, not in a warning manner like he had expected, but simply pleading with her eyes to go along with her. He knew what she wanted but was highly tempted to refuse in retaliation for how she was keeping him in the dark about her Skeeter scheme, but when she positively crushed his fingertips together and looked more urgently at him, he gave in, figuring that he might as well as just find out what she was up to.

'It's fine with me, Professor,' he intoned mechanically.

The Headmistress gave him a look and then nodded. 'Very well. Tonight at eight o' clock sharp. This classroom will be free then and she will meet you here. You may leave.'

At once, Hariah Potter released him and Draco breathed an audible sigh of relief. For all that he was on a mission of sorts to win her heart and should naturally relish every opportunity to hold her hand or vice versa, having the blood circulation cut off from his fingers did put a damper on the romantic aspect of things. However, once they were outside the classroom, it was his turn to grab her arm to prevent her from running off.

'Malfoy, what do you think you're _doing_?' she hissed, nervously glancing around the empty corridor as he firmly pulled her close to him.

Draco crocked an eyebrow. She had abused his fingers twice in less than twenty four hours, but when he laid a hand on her, it was such a scandal? _Such double standards_, he thought sarcastically, not relinquishing her from his grasp.

'That's exactly what I'd like to know. What _am_ I doing? You tell me.'

'What?' Potter stared at him, nonplussed.

'Tonight, with Skeeter! You have yet to tell me a word about what you have in mind. What am I supposed to do, for example?'

Understanding dawned on her and she turned to face him fully, some of the earlier excitement returning to her eyes. 'You don't have to worry about that, Malfoy. Blaise, Luna and Dennis have got it covered.'

Draco could care less about who the latter two people were. Not bothering to mask his disdain, he drawled, 'You expect me to believe that I can help take down that woman during an _interview_ by doing nothing?'

'That's the point.' Potter was beginning to sound exasperated. 'If you and I do something, she'll become suspicious, which is why we leave it to people she won't suspect to get the job done.'

'But we have to do something ... don't we?' Draco still could not grasop her concept of doing nothing.

She rolled her eyes. 'You just get yourself to that interview, Malfoy, and look pretty.'

He blinked, thrown. That was the second time in his life that he had been called pretty by Hariah Potter. Though he knew it was not meant to be flattering, her words still managed to pierce through his current confusion and stir the remnants of the old Draco Malfoy within him, bringing a sly smirk to this face.

'Again, Potter?' He asked with a chuckle. 'You really do think I'm good-looking, don't you?'

'Wha – It's just a figure of speech! And don't you dare even think about going down that road,' she added more loudly, clearly remembering the last time she had called him pretty and how that had ended. Her cheeks flushed lightly and, for the tiniest fraction of a second, her eyes darted to his mouth.

Still smirking, Draco was about to make another comment (he vaguely registered how surprisingly easy it was to settle back into his old manners and demeanour), but Potter forcefully pulled away from him, freeing her arm.

'Just be there,' she muttered, walking away.

'All right,' he acquiesced with a shrug, dropping the leer. 'But don't I at least need to know what's going to happen tonight?'

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. 'Why don't you just wait and see? It won't be hard to follow ... if it works.' And then she turned a corner and disappeared before he could call her back.

* * *

Draco's scepticism did not lessen as the hours passed. When the clock finally read seven forty-five, he slipped out of the Slytherin common room and made his way to the Transfiguration class, a mixed sense of foreboding, curiosity and anticipation gripping him tighter with every step he took. As he approached the closed, wooden door, he distractedly wondered where Blaise had wandered off to; he had disappeared sometime during dinner that evening and failed to turn up at their dormitory afterwards.

Gloomily wondering if Skeeter had already arrived, Draco reached for the doorknob, but then stopped dead. With a puzzled frown, he leaned forwards, angling his ear towards the door, listening intently. A few seconds later, he heard it again: a low voice, speaking softly on the other side:

'... nice job on the Disillusionment Charm, no one can see you. Now remember, pay attention to what she says ...'

'Don't worry, Harry,' interrupted a rather dreamy, feminine voice. 'I brought a quill and parchment so I can write what she says word for word. I'm very good at it, you know. I used to take notes for Daddy like when he talked about Blubbering Humdingers and the twenty seven uses of their gut secretions, one of which is being used as an aphrodisiac ...'

'Er ... right. That's really great. And you, De –'

'Got it, Harry,' interrupted a male voice, louder and more enthusiastic than the others. 'I've got it all ready. I also put a Silencing Charm on it so she won't know a thing when I take a snap.'

'Excellent. Stay close to us when she comes in, then. And here, you two, I brought the cloak. Stay under it and don't let her see you.'

'Thanks, Harry.'

'You got it, mate.'

Draco raised his eyebrows, having had recognised most of the voices. Bracing himself, he threw open the door harder than strictly necessary to announce his presence. Hariah Potter, who was standing by the teacher's desk, jumped in surprise and whirled around to meet him, but otherwise, the classroom looked empty.

'Honestly, Malfoy,' she said, frowning. 'Loud enough entrance?'

'Why are your friends hiding here?' he asked, ignoring her question. He looked around the seemingly empty room, not seeing but knowing that they were not alone.

'Oh, you heard me?' Potter looked slightly sheepish. 'Well, never mind. They have to be here. Anyway, I'm glad you came early, here's what we're going to do –'

'Oh, so _now_ I have a role to play in your little scheme?'

A look of amusement grazed Potter's face and Draco realised how childishly the words has escaped his mouth. A light flush dusted his cheeks.

'Well, basically,' Potter began to explain, lips still twitching, 'all you need is to be here, like I said, and pretend that you really came for the interview –'

'And look pretty?'

She ignored his mocking jibe. 'And act like how you normally are around her.'

Draco considered this. 'Hmm. Last time I met her, I wasn't very polite.'

'Not surprising for you,' Potter muttered under her breath, but Draco heard her anyway. He shot her a pointed look which did not faze her in the slightest, but she added more normally, 'Well, it doesn't matter as long as it's natural and she doesn't suspect anything.'

There was a long pause in which they looked expectantly at each other. Finally, when she kept silent, Draco ventured,

'And that's it?'

'That's it.' She nodded. 'But there's one thing, though: before she gets too caught up in her interview, we have to lure the topic to her being an Animagus. We need to get her to talk about it.'

Draco looked closely at her. 'What does her being an Animagus have to do with anything?'

Potter flashed him a smirk that Draco recognised as his own personal favourite. 'You'll see,' she replied, turning away from him to snatch a ragged, old piece of parchment from the teacher's table. 'We just need to get her started on the subject and leave the rest to Blaise. Of course, we could give him a few boosts here and there ... here she comes!' she hissed, eyes locked on the parchment in her hand. Draco glanced curiously at it, but Potter pocketed it in a flash and sat down on one of the two chairs that had been placed in front of the teacher's desk. Draco hastily joined her just as the door was thrown open, revealing the one woman he currently loathed with all his heart.

'Oh, you both are already here. Lovely!' cried Rita Skeeter happily. Swishing her robes of emerald green spangled with gold and flipping her perfectly curled blonde ringlets, she sauntered up the aisle towards them, her ever present photographer and his huge camera in tow.

'Why, am I to have the teacher's seat?' Rita leered, revealing several gold teeth as she slid into the high-backed chair as if she were settling on a throne. Her photographer quickly took his place behind her. 'Indeed, the Headmistress is too kind. Though of course, such a dingy classroom! A private office with a warm fireplace would have been more ideal, I believe, for interviews are _quite_ arduous tasks ...'

Draco watched with growing disgust as the reporter continued with her small talk, keeping his arms folded in case he ended up doing something he would regret. The more time he spent in her presence, the greater became his urge to give her a good beating around the noggin. After all the lies she had weaved, all the humiliation she had put them through, she still had the audacity to come and act like nothing was wrong. He clenched his teeth.

_Act natural, eh?_ Well, that he wouldn't mind.

'Enough,' he snapped, cutting across her simpering words. 'You wanted us here and here we are. Get on with it.'

Dropping her overblown cheeriness, Rita chuckled mockingly at him. 'My, my, impatient, are we? Though, if I were to be honest, I was rather surprised to hear that you agreed to this. I expected you to refuse, though of course, I'm not complaining.'

Potter scoffed in contempt, finally speaking. 'Refuse? As if that could keep you away.'

'Mm, quite right,' Skeeter nodded, flashing her teeth at them.

'If you couldn't get a story legally,' continued Potter, her eyes gleaming triumphantly; Draco snapped to attention, realising that she was about to push her plan into action, 'then you would've got it _illegally_, wouldn't you, Skeeter?'

'Illegal?' The reporter let loose a tinkering laugh. 'Now let's not get carried away, Harry ...'

'Just like how you spied on my friend and Viktor Krum, spied on Hagrid and on me years ago... You would've _bugged_ around until you got your story, wouldn't you, Rita Skeeter? Changed into a beetle yet, recently?' Potter's tone of voice was level, yet convincingly angry and Draco wondered if that was because it was really genuine. It probably was...

The blonde woman looked infuriatingly amused at Potter's harsh words. Lacing her fingers together, she leaned her chin on them and answered cheerfully, 'Why, you make it sound like a bad thing when, in fact, that particular talent has been my little secret behind all my successful stories. It comes in real handy, wouldn't you agree, Draco?' She winked at the Slytherin who felt a flash of both fury and guilt, recalling the malicious stories about Hariah Potter he had passed to Skeeter during the Triwizard Tournament. He peeked at her out of the corner of her eyes, but she did not acknowledge Skeeter's last words.

'I suppose it doesn't make a difference to you that you are an unregistered Animagus, either' snapped Potter, suddenly raising her voice.

'Do keep it down, Harry,' admonished the reporter, still keeping her smile in place though some irritation and worry had crept into her eyes. 'We wouldn't want to spread it around, now, would we? Though yes ...' she leered. 'It doesn't make a difference to me. I am an Animagus and it helps me to get the most exclusive scoops in the _Daily Prophet_ as everyone already knows, which is all that matter –'

She had barely finished speaking when the classroom door banged open and someone came barging in, going, 'There you are, Harry! Professor McGonagall said I'd find you here. We need to discuss the Verita, it's almost due – but I thought I heard someone say Animagus ...' He froze, as if taking note of Rita Skeeter's presence for the first time.

'Blaise,' Draco and Potter said in unison, the former out of genuine surprise, but then he remembered that Blaise was a part of this.

'Oh, I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall didn't mention you were in the middle of something,' apologised the Slytherin smoothly with a winning smile.

'Well, yes, as you can see, we are,' said Rita coolly, giving Blaise a derisive look. 'So, if you'd leave...'

'No need for such rudeness, miss, I'm leaving. But hey, Harry, what was that about an Animagus? I thought I heard –'

'And _you_ care, because?' Skeeter raised her eyebrows, studying her manicured fingernails disinterestedly though her voice was filled with impatience.

The brunet shrugged, his face suddenly acquiring a subtle, eager glow as he said, 'Nothing. Just that I've always wanted to be one. Turning into an animal at will and being able to do anything you want... it's kind of like a childhood dream, you know...'

Draco had to admit; he was impressed with Blaise' acting. The words were a bit on the cheesy side, no arguments about that, but his friend had put just the right touch of wistful longing in his voice and eyes to make it sound sincere and honest – and he was definitely succeeding in what he was aiming for because Skeeter had given him a second look, not quite so scornful this time.

'Hmm, it seems that someone shares my appreciation for the beauty of Animagi concept,' she remarked, smirking at Harry. Turning back to Blaise, she added, 'Keep dreaming then, boy, but don't get your hopes up. Only the most elite wizards and witches can accomplish such a feat.'

Draco balled his hands into fists, aching to slap the smug look off the woman's face.

Blaise stared at her. 'Eh ... how do you know ...' he trailed off and then comprehension dawned on his face. 'You? You're the Animagus I heard Harry talking about?' He began to laugh heartily, slapping a hand against his thigh. Beside Draco, Potter shifted in her chair, hopeful enthusiasm dominating her face as she turned to watch the drama.

Rita Skeeter's face lost all traces of humour and superiority. 'What's so funny?' she hissed, glaring at the laughing Slytherin.

'Do you really,' he said, still sniggering, 'expect me to believe that _you_ have enough magic and skills to transform yourself? Please!'

Her mouth set in a thin line, Skeeter slowly got to her feet. 'And you find it so hard to believe, because?'

Gathering himself together, Blaise settled for smirking and leaned leisurely against one of the student desks.

'Perhaps it's less to do with your magical skills and more with my impression of you,' he admitted. Before Skeeter could ask, he elaborated, 'Lady, I've read countless articles of yours in the _Daily Prophet._ Nothing but lies and silly speculations, all designed to shame your victims and bring plenty of fame to you in return. I'm sorry, but it's all just useless stupidity and attention-seeking on your part. You are not bothered with spending some effort to uncover the truth and, instead, you satisfy yourself and your readers with juicy lies. Such a person doesn't exactly strike me as the type that can have the commitment and concentration to become an Animagi. You're more like a dumb, air-headed blonde who thinks she's better than the rest of us. No offense,' he added as an afterthought in a cheery, very insulting tone.

Somewhat amused at Blaise' provocative words, Draco turned back to Skeeter only to have his jaw nearly drop open. He had never seen the woman so livid; her teeth were almost bared and her eyes shot daggers at the smiling Slytherin, reflecting anger of unfathomable intensity. Her fingers were twitching at her sides and Draco hoped that she would not think to claw at his friend to vent her feelings; he doubted that the feel of two-inch long, filed nails in one's skin would be a pleasant experience.

'Is that right?' she finally spoke, forcing the words through gritted teeth as she advanced upon Blaise until they were nearly nose-to-nose. 'Rather stereotypical of you, isn't it, boy?'

The smile on Blaise' features turned wolfish. 'Then why don't you prove me wrong?' he whispered, eyes narrowing challengingly at her.

A cold, supercilious smile stretched across her face. 'Oh, I shall.'

At her words, Potter sat up straight, eyes wide with anticipation. Draco watched on curiously.

Stepping away from the teenager, Rita added haughtily, 'Never make the mistake of making your own presumptions, boy. You never know if and when you might have to eat your own words.'

_Which is the most hypocritical thing ever said in history_, Draco thought sardonically as Rita Skeeter abruptly transformed, her body shrinking in the blink of an eye to a small, tiny beetle that he had seen a few times before.

The Skeeter bug crawled in a zigzag direction on the floor for a few seconds before she transformed back into her human form. Flushed with success and smugness, she straightened her hair and turned haughtily to Blaise, demanding, 'Well? What do you have to say to that?'

Blaise stared blankly at her for a long minute, and then suddenly burst into laughter. 'That's it? A little beetle? Oh, you are funny, miss. Thanks for the laugh.'

There was shocked silence for a minute. And then, swelling with fury at his insolent (and unsatisfactory) reaction, Rita Skeeter exploded, 'I am an accomplished Animagus, a feat that only a handful of wizards in a century can achieve and you have the audacity to mock me?'

'Animagus? Yes. Accomplished?' Blaise snorted. 'Well, I suppose a beetle is something. Though I would think something a little bigger and more _vertebrate_ would make a more lasting impression on people. But don't you worry.' He flashed a bright smile at her. 'A tiny bug is a thousand times more than what most air-headed reporters can manage, I'm sure, so be proud of yourself.'

For a moment, Draco feared that Skeeter would slap his friend, so ferocious did she look at his mocking words. Blaise obviously thought the same for he was quick to slip out of her reach.

Skeeter stood where she was, unmoving and breathing hard for several seconds. Then, without a second glance at any of them, she stormed from the room, her photographer stumbling after her.

They watched her leave, speechless, listening to her footsteps fade away. Then Blaise, grinning broadly, turned to face them both and drawled, 'So, what's the verdict?'

A huge smile broke across Potter's face, which to Draco looked like a sun that had broken free of the clouds. 'You were absolutely brilliant!' She shouted, leaping from her chair. 'Merlin, Blaise, you did better than I imagined! I thought it would take a long time, but you got her to transform just like that! And you actually made her leave – I thought she'd stay even after exposing her Animagus self and question us...'

'All right,' Blaise chuckled. 'As much as I love hearing people singing my praises, you can stop babbling now.'

She grinned again. 'Thanks for doing this, Blaise.' Then she turned and called in no general direction in particular, 'Come on out, guys. Show me what you got.'

Draco quickly looked around and, sure enough, there was Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger emerging from underneath a strange, silvery cloak in a corner of the room, and another Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw, the latter of whom he vaguely recognised, appearing at Potter's elbow as Disillusionment Charms cast upon them were removed.

'Please tell me that you got a picture, Dennis,' Potter said, almost begging, as she turned to the Gryffindor boy who had a large camera slung around his neck which he held fondly.

'Yep,' he nodded proudly. 'Got three great shots: one of her turning into the bug, another one of her crawling around on the floor and the last one of her turning back to herself.'

'Great!' Looking overjoyed, she turned to the Ravenclaw. 'Luna?'

The dirty blonde-haired girl held up a roll of parchment and said solemnly. 'Every word she said.'

'Even the part where she admitted that she's an unregistered Animagus?'

'Yes, Harry,' Luna said with a smile. 'It was fun, but not quite as enjoyable as noting down Daddy's theories on why the Crumple-Horned Snorkack can only defecate once a month –'

'OK, thanks,' Potter interrupted quickly, much to the relief of everyone else.

Draco, who had been silently watching their exchanges, finally saw the big picture of Potter's scheme. A slow smile curved up his lips and his eyes lit up as he watched his fiancée talk with her friends with almost child-like delight. _Blaise was right_, he mused. She did have a sly bone in her body and her plan had also been remarkably simple as it had been efficient; a sign of the impulsive intelligence she had. He could not deny it; he was quite impressed with her quick thinking.

Still smiling slightly, he watched as she went back to Blaise, still praising his act. 'You, Blaise Zabini, deserve an Oscar for that performance!'

'What's that?' asked Blaise, Weasley and Luna together with varying levels of puzzlement.

'You wouldn't know, but you deserve it,' she assured him brightly while Granger chuckled appreciatively from behind her.

'Right ... thank you. But you know, it only worked because you were right. Rita Skeeter does have a ... what did you call it? A flaunting attitude. A few mocking words from someone and she was desperate to show off that she could do it.' Blaise shook his head, appearing both amused and pitying.

'Yes, but we couldn't have done it without you. Again, thank you, Blaise.' Potter gave him a sincere smile and began to turn to the Gryffindor boy, Dennis, but her eyes landed on Draco and she blinked.

'What?' she asked slowly, reddening slightly.

With a start, Draco realised that he had been staring at her the entire time, still smiling. Clearing his throat, he straightened and muttered, 'Eh ... nothing. It's just, I finally get what you planned all along.' He could not stop another tiny smile from appearing on his face.

Potter looked pleased. 'Yeah. With Dennis' photos, Luna's notes and our six signatures as witnesses (sorry, Dennis, but not you; you're not of age yet), we can give Rita Skeeter a taste of her own medicine in ... er, how long will it take?' she asked, looking at Dennis and Luna.

'It's late tonight,' answered the boy, nodding at his wristwatch, 'but I can have the pictures developed by tomorrow evening.'

'I'll have these sorted out by then, too,' Luna said, holding up her notes. 'Then we can sign it and I'll mail everything to Daddy. He can publish it the next day.'

'Wait a moment, where exactly are you sending these?' Draco asked Potter, frowning.

'_The Quibbler_,' she replied, grinning at Luna. 'A fine old magazine with no external influences. It's just right for the job and old Xenophilius owes me, anyway.'

The Slytherin looked dubiously at her, but chose to keep silent. So far, her plan had worked; she knew what she was doing (even though everyone did know that _The Quibbler_ could only be put to best use by utilising it to polish one's shoes).

'Right, so we'll meet tomorrow night at the Entrance Hall to put our signatures on the papers, right after dinner. That OK?'

The rest of them murmured their agreement and slowly, as a group, they filed out of the Transfiguration classroom to head to their respective dormitories. The Gryffindor boy skipped ahead to join Blaise, enthusiastically striking up a conversation about how the Slytherin had successfully manipulated the reporter; next came Weasley and Granger who also were talking about the night's events. The Luna girl followed, humming a tuneless melody and lastly came Potter, following Draco who purposefully slowed until they were walking side by side.

He looked at her sideways. She was staring off into space as she walked, her earlier triumph still reflected in her eyes and smile. Draco could practically feel the waves of self-satisfaction she was exuding.

'Happy, aren't you?' he said softly, eyeing the curve of her smile.

'Yes,' she replied at once, still gazing at a far-off place he could not see. 'It's been a long time since I've wanted to get Skeeter for something.'

'Well, I've been pretty furious with her myself and I'm glad to see her go as well, but you seem infinitely more pleased with what happened tonight than me.'

Potter shook her head, snorting quietly. 'Well, of course. You've had her on your case for a few months; she's been after me for years...'

They walked a long way in silence, steadily drawing closer to the point where they had to part ways. After a few minutes, Draco remarked, 'It's a good way to start this, isn't it?'

'Start what?' She looked at him, bemused.

'This...' He hesitantly gestured a hand between them, uneasy with voicing it out loud. 'Us.'

'Oh.' Potter looked away with a hot flush on her cheeks, looking equally uncomfortable. Clearing her throat self-consciously, she asked quietly, 'And exactly what was a good way to start ... this?'

Draco's lips curled up slightly. 'Tonight, what we did to Skeeter – something that both of us wanted to do and enjoyed doing ... even though you deliberately kept my part small,' he added though without the previous indignation.

She snorted, looking somewhat amused. 'Your part might not have been big enough to satisfy your over-inflated ego that even the sharpest pin cannot rupture, Malfoy, but ... I needed you for it to work anyway.' She paused to look over at him. 'And thank you, for going along with me.'

Taken aback at the unexpected words, Draco simply looked at her, seeing the honesty in her eyes. Feeling a little embarrassed, he put his hands in his pockets and, looking in the opposite direction, answered gruffly, 'Don't mention it. And I should thank you ... for giving me a chance.'

Which, of course, took the tension and uncomfortable atmosphere between them to a whole new level, but Draco did not regret it. He had needed to tell her that. Throwing her another glance, he spied the high colour in her cheeks and added, to ease the tenseness,

'You planned tonight well, by the way.'

At that, for the very first time, Hariah Potter looked directly into his eyes and smiled; a warm, true smile of happiness and gratitude she had never aimed in his direction before. The sight of it seemed to take the very breath from his body and, for a moment, he longed to take her in his arms right then and there. Letting his happiness show in his eyes, he returned her gesture, hopeful that it was the start of something wonderful and knowing that he would remember that moment for a long time yet to come.

* * *

**A/N: Woot! Can you feel the love tonight? Or at least, impending love? Haha. I originally meant to end this in a cliffhanger, but this felt like a better ending :)**

**Alrighty, I got a question. When I began this fic, I never thought about pairing off everybody and I don't think I will, either. But if - and that's a really big IF - I wanted to pair Blaise off with a girl, who would you recommend? Let me know in a review or PM.**

**So, there we have it, folks! Don't forget to review, please!  
**


	19. Chaos and Truths

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

******A/N: HOLY SMOKES, YES, I'M UPDATING!!! If you guys have checked my profile recently, then you've probably seen the notice about my exams that stretches on to the end of June (NOT July; my mistake -_-). I wasn't planning on writing fanfiction until they were over, but during the two week free period they gave between our mock exams and official Finals, inspiration hit and here I am with another chapter for y'all! Rejoice! :P LOL**

******This chappy contains a lot of things I've been wanting to put in for sometime now. So, enjoy, ne! ^^**

******

* * *

**

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: CHAOS AND TRUTHS**

For Harry, it was a glorious sight. The handsome screech owl rose higher and higher, just visible to the small group of spectators below as it soared away to the south, a large envelope dangling from its legs. It disappeared over the leafy peaks of the Forbidden Forest and Harry heaved a small sigh of anticipation, already impatient for the arrival of the next morning when the truth would be unleashed to the world.

She doubted that even the ever sly Rita Skeeter would be able to crawl her way out of that hole.

'Well,' sounded Hermione's voice from behind her, 'that's that. It's up to _The Quibbler_ now.'

Smiling, Harry turned to face them; Ron, Hermione, Luna, Dennis, Blaise and Malfoy – all of whom had convened at the Entrance Hall this Thursday night like they had previously agreed. Giving their signatures as witnesses of Rita Skeeter's illegal unregistered Animagus form had seemed strangely like signing a pact, much like when Hermione had had the original DA sign their oaths of secrecy three years go, but this one was a bigger deal with much greater consequences.

Harry could barely wait to see them.

'So, Mr Lovegood will publish the pictures in tomorrow's edition?' asked Hermione of Luna, checking her watch. 'It's nearly seven already. Will he have enough time?'

'Oh yes,' the Ravenclaw nodded seriously, her protuberant eyes very wide. 'I sent ahead a note to Daddy last night. He's already prepared.'

'Good thinking,' Ron grinned.

'Yeah, so ...' began Dennis, who, despite his enthusiasm, had not said a word since handing over Skeeter's photographs that evening. He looked over at Harry with tentative hope. 'Does this mean that ... I mean,' he cleared his throat awkwardly when everyone turned to look at him. 'Am I ... you know?'

He looked so hopeful that Harry had to smile, knowing perfectly well what he was trying to say. 'Yes, you are, Dennis,' she said simply. 'You sort of made it up to me by helping me with this. But remember, next time...'

The fifth year nodded vigorously, his joyful relief unmasked. 'I know, I know: it won't happen again. I swear.'

'Well, all right then,' spoke up Blaise, who had been leaning against the Entrance door with a silent, blank-faced Draco that was gazing at where the owl had disappeared into the night. 'We should get back. Thanks, Harry; it was fun bringing the bug down. Do you need us for anything else?'

'Nope. Just wait for the chaos tomorrow.'

Her words were met with a round of grins and quiet laughter and, offering their goodnights, the small band broke up. Dennis, Luna and Hermione headed back inside while Harry and Ron, who had Quidditch practice in less than ten minutes, began to make for the pitch. However, before they had made it to the bottom of the steps outside, Blaise urgently called her back again.

'Listen, Harry,' he said when she turned to face him, 'the deadline for the Verita Potion is Friday next week and we still have some minor adjustments to make. Do you think we can squeeze in an extra session before that? Apart from our usual Tuesday and Thursday, I mean.'

Harry's brows knitted together in a troubled frown as she considered the matter. 'Hang on, let me think...'

Raising an eyebrow, the Slytherin shot her a perceptive look. 'Busy schedule?' he asked shrewdly.

'Damn straight. Apart from our Potions nights, I have Quiddtich practice three times a week, including Saturday,' she explained, ticking the days off her fingers, 'and Professor McGonagall also wants me to hold Defence classes on Fridays and Sundays, which ... were my remaining free evenings. So ...'

'Oh yes, I saw the notice about your Defence lessons –'

'You work _every_ single night?'

Harry looked round, surprised, as Draco Malfoy spoke for the first time since they had gathered together that evening. He had finally torn his eyes away from the dusky sky and was gazing at her with a peculiar expression.

'Yes, pretty much,' she answered slowly, curious about his strange reaction. 'Why do you ask?'

'What, you're not free even on your weekends?' snapped Malfoy, his tone uncommonly sharp and almost accusing.

Harry raised her eyebrows, surprise and annoyance awakening within her at his rude response, but Ron beat her to the punch.

'Some people actually _work_, Malfoy. It's not an unknown concept among us _commoners_,' he said scathingly, scowling at the Slytherin. The blond retaliated with a withering glare and Harry had to wonder how – if at all – they managed to stay civil enough to work together on a Potions' project without blowing the dungeons to kingdom come.

Nevertheless, arguments were not going to help the situation and Harry placed a hand on Ron's arm, silently asking him to let things be. She did not see the dark look that crossed her fiancé's features as his eyes locked on her hand placement before he schooled his expression back to neutral.

Turning back to Malfoy, she repeated, 'Why?'

Looking inexplicably angry, he turned his head away. 'Never mind.'

Harry stared at him, perplexed at his abrupt mood swing. Things had been fine so far – heck, things had been as fine and civil as was possible between them, even after their embarrassing conversation the night before, but now ... what? She turned to Blaise for an explanation, but he simply rolled a shoulder, shooting a speculative look at his friend.

Suppressing a groan, Harry gave up. There really was no way to understand how the wheels turned in Malfoy's brain.

Coolly ignoring him, she turned back to her Potions' partner. 'I'll be pretty busy, but I only have practice on Saturday morning, so we might be able to meet up later that day. I'll let you know.'

'That'd be great, thanks. See you tomorrow.'

Harry returned the parting and turned to leave with Ron without another glance at the other Slytherin. As they left for the Quidditch pitch at a light run, she could have sworn she heard Malfoy say her name softly.

She did not look back.

* * *

Later that night, Draco found himself alone in the common room, the rest of his housemates already having gone off to bed. All apart from Blaise who had left his side earlier in the evening without explanation and had yet to turn up since. Feeling a little worried about his friend as it was half past ten and past curfew, the Slytherin made himself more comfortable in his fireside sofa and gazed at the dying flames, willing his mind to stay blank. But every so often, images of messy black hair and vividly green eyes flashed through his mind, unbidden.

He should not have been so short with Potter back in the Entrance Hall, Draco reflected, watching the fire steadily diminish to embers. For once, things had been peaceful – almost friendly – between him and Hariah Potter, but a few unintentionally brusque words from him earlier that evening and they had gone right back to square one ... almost. The animosity was drastically decreased, but their short-lived civility had drained away as soon as he had reacted so negatively to Potter's announcement of her full schedule.

What must she have thought of him? He berated himself as he recalled her reaction of utter bewilderment to his abrupt outburst. Not that he could blame her: he must have sounded quite bizarre, shouting for no apparent reason, but now he wished he had taken the time to explain himself to her.

_I should have seen this coming._

He had spent so long trying to find his elusive fiancée and, afterwards, persuading her to give him a chance that he had not spared much thought to what might come after. Now here he was, faced with the overwhelming prospect of possibly spending his life with a woman who was a million worlds apart from him. Because – for all that he had spent a good portion of his life insulting, obsessing and frequently observing her (from a distance), when it came right down to it – she was still as good as a stranger to him. There were innumerable bridges to build in order to lessen the vast gap between them, foundations that could only be laid over time when she chose to open her heart to him and vice versa, a whole lifetime of hers to learn and his to teach...

And Miss Chosen One had just conveniently dropped the bomb that she had absolutely no time whatsoever to, oh what, build a relationship with the man she had so kindly agreed to consider as a future husband! Well, alright, _technically_ she had simply been informing Blaise that she had a lot on her plate – but if she barely had time for extra Potions with her partner, then Draco could not see how she could give him the time of the day, let alone be involved in "getting to know each other".

Not that that was a really justifiable reason for how he had practically blown up at her in the Entrance Hall, of course not. In fact, people would probably think it incredibly silly of him to be so affected by merely not being able to spend time with Potter, but for Draco, it meant a lot more than he himself could fathom. After all, after a seven year running gag of endless snarking, he finally had his golden opportunity of getting the girl he wanted – and he was to be thwarted merely because said girl could not spare him the time. Bloody brilliant.

_This is so ... stupid._ He could think of no other word for it; his situation was just utterly _stupid_.

Draco was glad for the distraction when the wall on the other side of the room slid back to reveal a very wet and extremely annoyed-looking Millicent Bulstrode standing in the corridor beyond, her arms wrapped around her shivering form. Scowling deeply, she stomped into the common room and was momentarily followed by Blaise, who looked as if he was holding back his laughter with great difficulty.

'Finally decided to show up?' Draco drawled at Blaise, sparing a glance at Millicent who had whipped out her wand and was trying to dry her limp, dark hair.

'Got a little sidetracked,' Blaise answered with a chuckle as he came to sit in the armchair opposite Draco. Directing a smirk at the fuming girl, he added, 'It was quite an amusing experience, eh, Millicent?'

'Shut it, Zabini,' she snapped, glaring at them both as she aimed her wand at her robes. 'I'd like to see how _you'd_ enjoy it were you in my position!'

'Surely it wasn't that bad.'

'You're not the one who was pushed into the lake, nearly got dragged down by the bloody Giant Squid and had _his_ tongue down your throat the whole time!!'

Blaise just threw his head back and laughed in open amusement, adding to Millicent's ire while Draco looked back and forth between them, perplexed.

'Anyone care to enlighten me?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. Then the girl's last words really sank in and his lips pulled up in a smirk. 'Exactly _whose_ tongue was down your throat, Millicent? Surely not the Giant Squid's ...?'

Pursing her lips together, the Slytherin girl turned her back on them and kept silent. Draco shot a questioning look at Blaise who, grinning widely, began to explain,

'Little Millie had a surprise run-in with her not-quite-secret admirer tonight.'

The girl in question, now drying her socks and shoes, growled something inaudible under her breath, but Blaise went on as if he had not heard her.

'Do you remember my saying that I fancied teaming up with Seamus Finnegan in his Inter House Unity schemes? Well, I decided to go for it and set out to find him until I saw Leprechaun Boy sneaking out of the castle a little earlier on. I figured that I'd follow him. Maybe I shouldn't have,' he added, leering over at Millicent, 'though I'm not complaining. You two made quite a spectacle!'

Draco smirked again, getting an idea of what had probably ensued. 'I see. And ...?'

'And it turns out that Finnegan had seen her taking a late night walk along the lake – funny, in all these years, I never thought of you as a nature person, Millicent, dear – and then,' Blaise was choking back laughter now, 'he shouted something about taking a leaf out of Harry Potter's book, declared his undying love for his "darlin' Millie" at the top of his voice – and let me tell you, that bloke's got a hell of a set of pipes; he scared birds out of the trees – and _then_ –'

'He shoved his tongue down her throat?' finished Draco with a snort, looking round at Millicent who had gone red in the face. 'Must have been quite a snog, eh?'

'The idiot practically jumped on me!' shouted the girl, mortified and outraged. 'We fell into the lake and it was bloody freezing and the goddamn squid was there and ... _aaargh_!' she screamed in frustration and stamped her foot in a manner very unlike her usual reserved self.

Unsympathetic, the two Slytherin boys continued to snicker to themselves. With a haughty huff, Millicent shoved Draco out of the way so that he ended up on the other end of the sofa, farthest from the fireside. Taking his previous seat, she built up the dying fire with a quick '_Incendio_' and began to warm her hands, ignoring the two boys.

Still smirking, Draco made himself comfortable and drawled, 'Honestly, how you dislike him! I can't hope to imagine how the both of you make it through your Verita project unscathed.'

'Easy. I simply threatened to remove a certain body part of his should he cause us to fail Potions. He started working seriously from then on ... though he takes every opportunity to flirt with me, of course. But _tonight_...' Her hands clenched into fists.

The blond shook his head in amusement. 'Really though, you should be flattered. I was under the impression that girls are supposed to like it when men publicly declare their love for them?'

She turned to stare at him in disbelief. 'I don't know where the hell you heard that, Malfoy, but there is a huge difference between flattering someone and humiliating them.'

'I see,' Blaise said, nodding mock-seriously. 'So, the fact that a man highly fancies you is ... humiliating?'

'And he _does_ fancy you,' Draco added dryly, folding his arms. 'I have no high opinion of Leprechaun Boy, but even I can't deny that he genuinely seems to want you.'

'Then maybe he should learn the difference between courting someone and shaming them!' Millicent snapped. 'And hanging a huge _I-LOVE-YOU_ banner in the Entrance Hall for the entire school to see or attacking me in the lake is not the way to go about it. It is undignified and embarrassing. I would think that even a retard would know that much!'

'I don't think he meant any harm,' Blaise said fairly.

Upon seeing the look on the girl's face, Draco added pointedly, 'But you did get your revenge, didn't you. You gave Finnegan quite a good beating in return for that banner.'

'And you threw your shoe _very_ hard at him tonight (even though he managed to escape your slap). His buttocks can't be feeling good right now.'

Draco snorted, struggling to hold back his laughter at the vivid, mental image Blaise' words had created.

Millicent, on the other hand, was unmoved. Turning back to the flickering flames, she muttered, 'That's only a temporary satisfaction. It doesn't make people forget what he did ... Tracy and Daphne still tease me about his stupid banner _every single time_ we enter the Entrance Hall. And every idiot in this school thinks that what Finnegan does is funny, but it's not. I find nothing funny about it! But you wouldn't understand that, would you?' She looked up, her eyes steely. 'You don't know what it's like to have people make fun of you all the time or to have someone embarrass you in front of everyone ...' she abruptly froze, something flickering in her eyes as she stared at Draco.

He tensed immediately, recognising the expression on Millicent's face. He knew exactly where this was going.

'Oh, that's right. You do understand how it is to be constantly talked about behind your back, don't you, Draco?' Millicent murmured.

'Don't,' he said quietly.

'Malfoy and Potter this, Malfoy and Potter that ... you have your own "romantic" mess to deal with.'

'Don't, Millicent.'

'What's the point of hiding it? The whole house heard your Howler last night. Us Slytherins know that you're engaged to Hariah Potter and every other fool that picks up the _Daily Prophet_ suspects it at the very least.'

With a weary sigh, he muttered, 'What do you want me to say?'

She shrugged indifferently. 'I don't really give a damn about you and Potter. I'm just pointing out that, frankly, you're in as much deep shit as I am, so keep your remarks about Finnegan chasing me to yourself.'

Blaise, who had been mutely listening in till then, snorted. 'Right, "same shit". Only difference is, _he _plays the part of wooer, unlike you.'

There was a moment of silence in which Draco frowned at his friend, somewhat surprised that he had chosen to reveal that part. Millicent stared at him, taken aback.

'You mean, your whole engagement is not just a ... you actually _want_ to ... you're chasing Hariah Potter now?' She began to laugh a little disbelievingly, shaking her head. 'My, my, Malfoy. Who would've ever thought ... finally fallen for your enemy, eh?'

'_Finally_?' repeated Blaise with a meaningful smirk. Draco threw him a hard look, but the damage was done.

'What, you mean he's _always_ loved that lion?' Millicent was positively guffawing now, clutching her stomach. Her eyes gleamed with tears of mirth. 'Well, what a show of hatred you've put on these past seven years, Draco! You certainly convinced me.'

'All right, listen!' Draco snapped loudly, trying to gain the attention of his laughing friends. 'I wasn't and am not in love with Potter.'

'Right, right. What else would you call it?' Millicent smirked, obviously not believing him. 'Attraction?'

'Obsession,' Blaise coughed. He quickly held up his hands in surrender when Draco shot him a murderous look.

'I don't love her,' he repeated. When Millicent looked unconvinced, he pressed, 'I _don't_. How can you be _in love_ with someone you barely know? Common sense, morons.'

'How can you even think about _marrying_ someone you don't love?' the girl shot back. 'Common sense, moron.'

Blaise sniggered at their comical exchange, but spoke in defence of Draco all the same, 'No, it's like this, see: the engagement rings find the sort of person the owner wants. Then they see if they're really compatible and decide upon marriage or not.'

'Exactly,' Draco nodded triumphantly. 'It's about learning each other, not falling in love at first sight. _That_ is how you think about marrying someone you don't initially love.' He almost added 'Common sense, moron' but decided not to push it.

Millicent rolled her eyes, but gave in. 'Fine, whatever you say. At least,' she added gloomily, raising her knees to her chin, 'you're going about it in a decent manner ... apart from that picture in the _Prophet_, of course –'

'Not my fault –!'

'– which is a lot more than I can say for Finnegan,' she cut across him, barely listening. Her eyes were cold as she continued, 'Sometimes I wonder if it's all an act and he's just trying to humiliate me.'

Draco and Blaise exchanged a dubious glance.

'Maybe he doesn't know he's embarrassing you,' the latter said carefully. 'Finnegan's an eccentric fellow. Maybe he honestly believes that he's doing things the right way to win you over.'

'Then he desperately needs a harsh reality slap to the face,' was the aloof answer. 'Every time he makes an _eccentric_ advance on me – usually in front of every bloody student in this school – I wish to evaporate on the spot.'

Draco considered her seriously for a moment. Then, getting to his feet and making for the dormitories, he said lightly, 'You're right, Millicent. We are in equally deep shit. But what's different between us is that Potter and I are giving it a chance. Maybe you ought to try it and stop worrying so much about _what_ Finnegan's doing and, instead, focus on _why_ he's doing it.'

Millicent stared after him as he disappeared into the labyrinthine passage, her eyes wide and surprised.

* * *

Breakfast time the next day found Harry sitting impatiently at the Gryffindor table, completely ignoring the platter of delicious sausages in front of her while she eyed the glassless windows above, waiting for the morning post. Ron and Hermione sitting opposite her exchanged amused glances, but for once, the latter did not nag at her best friend to eat.

'Finally,' Harry hissed excitedly when, at long last, the awaited pack of owls came streaming into the Hall in a great flutter of wings and feathers. Her two friends lowered their forks as one and turned to look up with her, each of them scanning the mass of grey and brown for the blessed individual that would bring their well-deserved victory at last.

'That one,' said Ron, pointing at a barn owl that was flying towards Harry. It had a long, cylindrical package dangling from its legs.

The owl had barely alighted on the table before Harry relieved it from its burden. She ripped open the brown paper wrapping and out unfolded the latest edition of _The Quibbler_. Smack in the middle of the front page was a moving photograph of a simpering Rita Skeeter that coyly batted her eyelashes at the camera from behind her bejewelled spectacles; over the picture was:

_DAILY PROPHET_ REPORTER CAUGHT BUGGING AROUND – IILEGAL ANIMAGUS UNMASKED.

The words "BUGGING" and "ILLEGAL ANIMAGUS" were blown up to an exaggerated degree.

Ron snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice. 'Catchy headline, that. Why am I not surprised?'

Beaming, Harry flipped open the magazine to the correct page. 'It's brilliant,' she said happily, skimming through the article which not only reported everything correctly (and overdramatically, as per _Quibbler_ style), but also included minimised copies of both Dennis' photographs and the piece of parchment Harry and her friends had signed as witnesses. Xenophilius Lovegood had done his part well.

'Skeeter won't be able to escape a scandal this huge, especially when the Ministry starts investigating.' remarked Hermione when the other girl passed the paper to her.

'Hang on,' Ron suddenly said with a frown. 'D'you reckon anyone in the Ministry will take this seriously? I mean ... it's _The Quibbler_, after all.'

Hermione, still reading the article, shrugged. 'Well, considering how popular _The Quibbler_ became when it printed that interview of Harry's in fifth year, I don't see why not. A lot of people believed it.'

'I suppose,' Ron agreed reluctantly. 'But still, only a few people actually follow this thing. It'll take some time before it reaches the Ministry and the news really goes public. I guess we'll have to wait for the chaos, huh?'

Harry thought his words over carefully. 'Well ...' she drawled, a grin unfolding on her face, 'why bother waiting for the Ministry when we can start it ourselves?'

It took a few seconds before her friends caught onto her meaning. Then, in quick succession, understanding dawned in their eyes and huge smiles curved up their lips slowly. In unison, the three of them reached for their wands.

'Which spell?' Ron asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

'Gemino,' answered Hermione at once, closing the magazine.

'Gemi – eh? You mean the one that Bellatrix Lestrange put on Hufflepuff's cup in her vault?!'

'The very one,' smiled Hermione as, with a sweep of her wand, she sent _The Quibbler_ launching into the air to the middle of the Great Hall.

'_Gemino_,' hissed the three of them, aiming their wands at the magazine. For a fraction of a second, it remained suspended in mid-air. Then, with agonising slowness, it began to fall and the three Gryffindors followed its descent with bated breath; it landed on the Ravenclaw table, right in front of Padma Patil, who turned to look at it in surprise and curiously reached out a hand –

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGH!'

Her scream of shock sliced through the air like a bolt of lightening. Every head turned towards the Ravenclaw table and the chattering voices died away immediately as everyone stared at _The Quibbler_ which had, upon being touched by Padma, exploded into twenty or more identical fake copies that leapt into the air in a shower of _Quibblers_.

Hermione quickly waved her wand again so that the copies shot forward in every direction where they landed on random tables and the heads of many students, the latter case resulting in the fakes splitting into another twenty copies each. Catching on to her plan at once, Harry and Ron mimicked her and magically sent the copied magazines flying in every which way, where they replicated themselves upon coming into human contact.

For the next several seconds, it literally rained _Quibblers _in the Great Hall (which, as Ron pointed out, was a sight the likes of which no one had ever imagined, even in their wildest dreams) until Hermione, finally satisfied that every student and teacher had a copy of the magazine within reach, quietly murmured, '_Finite Incantatem._' The duplication process halted. Grinning broadly, the three Gryffindors returned to their breakfasts, leaving the rest of the student population to warily poke and pick up the magazines.

Keeping an ear out for the school's reaction, Harry helped herself to baked beans on toast. She did not have to wait long.

Barely five seconds later, someone gave a low whistle and exclaimed, 'Whoa. Busted!'

And with that, the hullabaloo started.

Harry smiled contentedly as she listened to the news spread around her; the voices of her peers were raised in disbelief and excitement. She could have sworn she heard someone say, 'Ooh, now that's a one-way ticket to Azkaban for Rita Skeeter!' and she grinned at the thought. Her ecstasy only increased as she imagined the grander reactions of the general public that would ensue when the news finally reached them – not to mention the people that worked at the _Daily Prophet_. No one would take the exposure of an illegal Animagus – especially said Animagus being the infamous Rita Skeeter – very lightly at all.

Oh yes. Say hello to Azkaban, Skeeter.

Ron and Hermione were looking around at the hubbub with great enjoyment. All the students were reading and discussing the article with great gusto and, along the Gryffindor table, Harry could see Seamus putting on a highly exaggerated act of fainting with shock to general hilarity and laughter.

'Ah, chaos,' sighed Ron theatrically. 'Glorious chaos.'

Harry could not have put it better herself. She turned in her seat to fully absorb the commotion and watched with increasing satisfaction as people waved the copies of _The Quibbler_ around. Her eyes slid from the clamouring Hufflepuffs to the Ravenclaws and finally to the Slytherin table where she easily found a grinning Blaise immersed in the magazine. Beside him, Draco Malfoy was peering over his shoulder to read it himself. She blinked when she noticed the rare upturn of his lips; he was genuinely enjoying it.

As she watched, Malfoy said something to Blaise laughingly and turned to reach for his water goblet. His eyes swept briefly across the Hall, passing carelessly over her profile before abruptly returning to meet her eyes with lightening speed. His lips were still curled up, as if the expression had frozen on his face.

Harry sat still, waiting for ... she was not quite sure. But the fact that neither his tiny smile nor the pleased look in his eyes disappeared was definitely not what she was expecting. She recalled the previous evening, when he had suddenly grown angry at her for no apparent reason. And now he was practically smiling at her. What was the man, bipolar?

She really had no idea how she was supposed to respond to him. He was unpredictable. With a blank face, she looked back at her plate, trying not to think about whether he was still staring or not. Dealing with Draco Malfoy was exhausting and she was in no hurry to upset her current good mood.

A good mood that returned and lasted for another twenty minutes before Professor McGonagall – who seemed supremely unaffected by how a bunch of self-replicating _Quibblers_ had revealed such a scandalous secret in the middle of breakfast – stood up and authoritatively reminded the excited students that they still had lessons to attend. And, being the scarily shrewd woman that she was, she eradicated all chances of anyone sneaking a magazine into class by casting a spell that effectively caused all the fake copies to disappear, leaving behind only the original which she also did away with via a quick '_Evanesco_'.

'Off you go,' she commanded as she put away her wand. 'Lessons start in less than ten minutes!'

Hermione leapt off the bench before anyone else could even react.

'Ancient Runes,' she explained in a hurried whisper to her questioning friends as she hastily grabbed her bag. 'Nearly forgot.' With that, she took off and disappeared through the doors of the Great Hall before half the other students had even left their seats.

Harry and Ron, who were lucky enough to have their first period free that day, finished their breakfasts at a more leisurely pace and left the Hall with a few of the other stragglers that, too, apparently had no classes right then. Among them were Dean and Seamus, who were walking ahead of them and still talking about the Skeeter article.

Ron smiled hugely as he listened to their awed voices. 'What better way to start off a Friday morning than sending that cow of a woman to hell and having first period free to boot?' he murmured, sighing contentedly.

Harry chuckled. 'Two free periods, you mean, seeing as we have Defence afterwards.' She frowned a little. 'There still hasn't been any news of when a teacher is going to come, has there?'

'Not that I've heard of. Speaking of which, we have our first DA meeting tonight, don't we?'

'Oh yeah,' Harry said, blinking. What with the earlier excitement over _The Quibbler_, she had almost forgotten. 'Tonight at eight to nine-thirty for Slytherins and Ravenclaws.'

'Huh? What about the rest?' Ron stopped in the middle of the Entrance Hall to gape at her.

'Oh, sorry, I didn't tell you, did I? When McGonagall was finalising the meetings, she split up the students into two groups, because she thought that too many might turn up. So, it's Slytherins and Ravenclaws tonight, and Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on Sunday.'

'Oh, come off it,' said Ron disbelievingly. 'Too many students coming? I bet you that not a single Slytherin will show up tonight.'

Harry shrugged dismissively, trying not to show any emotion. Truth was that she did not know what to feel about the prospect of possibly having to teach Slytherins – if any did come. The original DA had consisted of all the Houses except the snakes; none of them had ever been on her side, after all. But now what...?

'I dunno, Ron. We'll see tonight, I guess. And I was also thinking,' she added, feeling a hint of embarrassment coming over her, 'if we're to keep calling this the DA, let's the change the name from Dumbledore's Army to ...' She paused to think and suddenly remembered the name Cho Chang had suggested in their first ever meeting, '... to the Defence Association or something.'

'OK ...' Ron stared at her, puzzled. 'Why?'

Harry shrugged again. 'More appropriate, isn't it?' She met his confused eyes steadily, hoping he would not press the matter; she did not have the words to explain. To be completely honest, Harry was feeling uncomfortable with keeping the name of the group as Dumbledore's Army. _That_ group – the real DA – had been about rebelling against the corruption and blindness that had been threatening to tear apart the magical community; that group had been about training to fight against Voldemort and all the fools that had refused to accept his return; that group had consisted of people that had remained faithfully loyal to Dumbledore until the very end (with the exception of a negligible few, of course).

But this new DA – it could not even compare. It was like an extracurricular activity; something done for the sake of their grades, not for their survival. Harry could not help but feel that keeping the name of Dumbledore's Army would be an insult to the late Headmaster's memory and their rebellion. That name was sacred and special only to the few people that had believed and trusted in Harry and Dumbledore when the rest of the Wizarding World had turned their backs on them. That name could never be applied to anyone else.

To Harry's relief, Ron did not pursue the subject. With an accepting nod, he continued, 'Alright. But pity that we have to do it in two groups. That means we can attend only once a week!'

'Twice for you and Hermione,' Harry corrected, beginning to walk towards the marble staircase again. 'You'll be coming with me on Fridays, too, 'cause I'll need your help. But only if you're free to come –'

'Of course, we'll come!' said Ron excitedly. 'By the way, where are we holding the meeti –?'

He stopped talking – as did the rest of the students that were still in the Entrance Hall – when an angry snarl of 'Don't touch me!' sounded from ahead of them. The two Gryffindors looked up to see Millicent Bulstrode wrench her arm out of Seamus Finnegan's grip and storm towards the staircase leading to the upper floors, followed by two of her Slytherin girlfriends.

'Wait, Millie –' Seamus began, bouncing after her, but he stopped dead when she turned and gave him a look of utmost fury.

'Stop it. Just stop it,' she ground out between clenched teeth, eyes flashing. 'I've tried to put up with your nonsense, but I am just so _sick_ of you acting like a fool and embarrassing me in front of everyone over and over again.'

The ever-present grin on the Irishman's face had vanished. He was staring up at the Slytherin girl with genuine shock. 'Embarrass ... in front of ...? What, no, I wasn't trying to –'

'Why don't you open your bloody eyes and take a good look around you!'

Blinking, Seamus obliged. He appeared surprised to find the people in the Entrance Hall staring at him and Millicent with avid, curious eyes. Harry thought that she could understand his reaction: Seamus had never seemed to mind being the centre of attention; it was no wonder that he had not realised just how much notice he drew in his ceaseless pursuit of Millicent ... or that she obviously hated all the attention.

'Just grow up,' said Millicent coldly when Seamus looked back at her. She turned and hurried up the stairs, ignoring his desperate plea for her to wait.

Seamus stood stock still as he stared at her retreating figure. He barely reacted when Dean, who had a look of sympathy on his face, uncertainly dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. Beyond them, Millicent's Slytherin friends had recovered their senses and began to follow her again. One of them, a short blonde, gave Seamus a fleeting look that seemed almost pitying. She was about to leave when her eyes found Harry and Ron, standing a little behind Seamus and Dean.

It took a moment for Harry to realise that the blonde girl was staring at her. Their gazes met and Harry was filled with uncertainty when she saw a slow, knowing smile spread deliberately across the girl's face. Her eyes glinted, not with malice but with ... _something_ that distinctly made Harry's insides curl with unease. Her grin widened as she pointedly let her eyes rove down Harry's left arm to her gloved hand, which automatically curled into a fist under her gaze.

Harry was trying to figure out what was going on when the girl looked up at her again. Her lips moved and the Gryffindor froze to the spot.

_Malfoy._ The girl had mouthed _Malfoy_ at her.

With a final smirk at Harry, she lightly ran up the stairs. Harry released a breath she did not know she had been holding. _She knows_, she thought, unnerved. That Slytherin girl had not just merely suspected that Harry had Malfoy's ring like everyone else did, but she actually knew it. The look in her eyes had been unmistakeable.

What had Malfoy done, told all the Slytherins?!

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Ron, still frowning after Millicent, muttered, 'Got her knickers in a tighter twist today, hasn't she?'

'Might have something to do with Finnegan snogging her last night,' an amused voice said in reply.

With a start, Harry and Ron whipped around to see Blaise Zabini behind them.

'Blaise! What are you doing here?'

He shrugged, smiling carelessly. 'I was on my way to Ancient Runes when I remembered that I'd left my textbook in the dorm.' Looking over at the frozen Seamus, he added, 'Had a lover's spat, did they?'

Ron rolled his eyes with a snort while Harry, with a concerned look at the sandy-haired teen, muttered, 'I thought it was a bit harsh of Bulstrode. She didn't have to be that cruel, did she?'

Blaise gave her an unreadable look. 'Don't judge her,' he said quietly. 'She has her reasons.'

Ron spared him a disparaging glance. 'Why? Just because Seamus snogged her? The bloke is practically in love with her, for Merlin's sake! She didn't have to be such a –!'

'Then he needs to express how he feels in a way that she can accept,' the Slytherin cut across him smoothly. 'I'm not saying that Millicent is not at fault, but Finnegan also needs to understand her way of thinking and what is acceptable to her. And, judging from her reaction last night, him snogging her in the lake without her permission was the last straw.'

Though she was still feeling a little sorry for Seamus, a grudging Harry had to agree with that one. 'I don't think anyone would want to be snogged without permission,' she said dryly.

'You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?' Blaise drawled, causing Ron to unwittingly smirk and Harry to scowl. Adjusting the strap of his bag, the Slytherin continued, 'Anyway, this is a perfect opportunity. I've wanted to have a word with Leprechaun Boy for sometime now. See you, Harry.' With that, he brushed past the two Gryffindors towards Seamus and Dean, both of whom were slowly leaving the Entrance Hall through the large double doors leading outside.

'What about your Ancient Runes?' Harry asked half-heartedly after him, but Blaise appeared not to have heard her.

Harry and Ron stood in silence for a few seconds while the rest of the students cleared out of the Hall. Then, remembering what they had been talking about before Millicent Bulstrode's outburst, Ron turned back to her and asked, 'So, about the DA meetings – where are you going to hold them?'

Harry, whose thoughts had abruptly switched to the blonde Slytherin girl that had been smirking at her not five minutes ago, took a few seconds to make sense of her friend's words. 'Oh, right. McGonagall said we could hold them where we used to –' She stopped abruptly, remembering something with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her eyes widened. 'Ron ... the Room of Requirement ... does it work anymore?!'

'What are you ...' The colour drained from Ron's face and his mouth fell open, catching on to her meaning. 'Crabbe and the _fiendfyre_ ... I forgot ...'

They stared at each other for a full ten seconds, and then Ron turned on his heel and fled up the marble staircase. 'I'll go check it out and see if the Room still works!' he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to see if she was following or not.

'Wait, Ron!' Harry shouted after him, but he had already disappeared. A second thought had occurred to her: even if the Room of Requirement was still working, it would hardly be a good idea to reveal it to the rest of the student population. The Room's existence was better left as a secret that only a select few people were aware of. Certainly, it had not done anyone an ounce of good when Draco Malfoy had discovered the Come and Go Room and used it to unleash the nightmare of Death Eaters into Hogwarts...

Harry quelled the thought; she did not want to think of Draco Malfoy, especially about what an incorrigible pain and enemy he had been before the War (and sometimes, even now, too). But her thoughts switched right over to that Slytherin girl who had mouthed his name at her and, again, the question arose whether Malfoy had already told all his housemates the truth about their engagement.

He would not do that, would he? Without even consulting her?

Troubled, Harry slowly began to walk, letting her feet lead her towards the huge doors, down the steps and along the grassy, sunlit lawn. As her confused thoughts battled within her mind, she found herself suddenly filled with a longing so intense that it was nearly painful; a longing to be able to meet Sirius or maybe even Remus again. She had never discussed love or relationships with either of them when they had been alive; there had been no need to. But now, faced with a situation she had not found herself in before (and her inexperience made her fear it more than the prospect of facing Voldemort in a one-on-one duel – rather like how battling a Hungarian Horntail had seemed a piece of cake next to dancing in front of the whole school during the Yule Ball), she dearly wished that the two Marauders were with her.

After all, she reflected as she subconsciously picked out the familiar route that would take her to Hagrid's hut, it would have been comforting to hear an opinion or two from a parental figure she could trust – no matter how awkward it might have been.

* * *

Draco raised an eyebrow when Blaise, who had been conspicuously absent from that morning's Ancient Rune's class, met up with him in the courtyard which was where the majority of the students spent their free Defence Against the Dark Arts periods. Blaise came up to him wearing a huge smile, simply exuding waves of self-satisfaction.

The blond slid along the bench on which he was sitting to make room for him. Closing the Potion's book he had been perusing, he asked wryly, 'Do I need to ask where the hell you disappeared to this morning?'

'I finally cornered Seamus Finnegan,' said Blaise happily, unceremoniously dumping his bag onto the grass as he sat down beside his friend.

'Really?' Draco was amused. 'So, has he shanghaied you into working for him?'

'Working with him, you mean. He was all too happy to accept a partner-in-crime for his outrageous House Unity schemes.'

The Malfoy heir rolled his eyes, but without any real malice. 'Took you long enough to finally do it. Finnegan and Zabini – the legendary two-man force soon-to-be responsible for imposing unwanted friendship between rival Houses.'

'Hardly unwanted,' said Blaise with a snort. Leaning back casually, he stretched out his legs and folded his arms across his chest. 'Anyway, I'm glad I caught up with Leprechaun Boy today, since I was also able to put in a few words about Millicent.'

Draco, who had returned to his Potion's book (the Verita Potion was almost due and – though Weasley had been miraculously sensible enough to keep their enmity to a minimum whenever they worked on their project – it was still unfinished and he had begun to worry), looked up in confusion. Before he could ask, Blaise briefly explained what had taken place in the Entrance Hall that morning.

'She finally let him know how she felt about his chasing her so ... _publicly_, and not very kindly either,' he finished with a mild grimace. 'I felt a little sorry for the poor bloke, but he needed to hear it. His antics around her were not working at all.'

Draco, who had listened emotionlessly to his narrative, finally spoke, his voice testy, 'Perhaps. But that means that she barely listened to a word I said last night, doesn't it?' When Blaise looked round at him, looking a little shocked, he turned his face away and said coldly, 'Like I said, I don't have a high opinion of Seamus Finnegan, but if his actions around Millicent – no matter how embarrassing she finds them – are such because he genuinely likes her, then isn't that what she should be focussing on? Why does she care _how _he expresses his feelings for her? If his intentions are pure, the least she could do is to give him a chance.'

Neither of them spoke for a long time after his intense speech, mainly because they were not words that one often heard from Draco Malfoy – or any Malfoy, for that matter. Had Draco bothered to contemplate exactly what he had said just then, he might have been a little surprised at the words that had escaped him, but he was too distracted, and filled with frustration and anger.

Blaise, looking at him, slowly began to understand. 'You're basing all this on your experiences with Harry, aren't you?'

Draco did not reply, but simply occupied himself with stuffing his book back into his bag. Still avoiding the other's gaze, he asked abruptly, 'So, what did you say to Finnegan?'

'Ah, I just gave him a general idea of what Millicent said last night, but a little more nicely. I figured he needed to understand how she feels about his current crazy methods of approaching her and I gave him a couple of pointers on how he can tone it down a bit ... And then I offered to help him with his friendship schemes. That cheered him up.' Blaise grinned brightly.

Draco, too, felt his lips twitch slightly. 'Not someone that needs a lot of persuasion, is he?'

'No,' Blaise chuckled. 'But now I feel like I'm some sort of relationship counsellor. First you' – he ignored Draco's mortified flush – 'and now Leprechaun Boy. What will the men in this school do without me?' The smugness in his voice was staggering.

Restraining himself from rolling his eyes with great difficulty, Draco grunted, 'Just go find your own woman. Then you can counsel yourself.'

'I have yet to find a girl here that fits my tastes ... though Harry comes quite close.' He shot a provocative smirk at his friend, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Draco, however, was a little more fixated on the first part of what Blaise had said. If he had ever heard a lie in his life – then that was it. 'Blaise ... I mightn't have known you well before, but I do know for a fact that you've been with almost every girl in our House that is, at the most, three years younger than you or less!'

Blaise looked faintly amused at his accusation. 'Have you seen me with anyone this year?'

'... No,' the blond admitted, frowning in puzzlement. 'Not this year ... but you are a womaniser! I think the only girls you haven't tried are Millicent –'

'I haven't lost my marbles yet like Finnegan.'

'– or Pansy Parkinson –'

'Because _you_ were the one snogging her,' teased Blaise, laughing.

Draco shot him a haughty glare. 'You know I wasn't serious with Pansy.'

'No, you were with her only because she worshipped you.'

'Come to think of it, she could be a little annoying,' Draco continued, ignoring his last. 'Too _shrill_, if you ask me. Ah, it's a good thing she hasn't been all over me this year, as well.'

For a few seconds following this remark, Blaise simply gaped at him. '... Seriously?'

'What?'

'Draco ... the only reason why Pansy hasn't been all over you this year is because ... well, she is _not here_.'

The blond stared. 'Eh?' he said stupidly.

'She didn't come back to Hogwarts. Maybe because it's well known that her parents were huge supporters of the Dark Lord and she was too humiliated to return after the Light won the War or ... I don't know. But the point is, she's not here ... and you never noticed?'

'Er ...'

Blaise exhaled loudly from his mouth and shook his head. 'You've got your head a little too much wrapped around Harry, I think,' he said dryly.

Draco did not argue.

The bell that signalled lunch rang at that second. Gathering up their bags, the two Slytherins joined the throngs of students that were making their way inside to the Great Hall.

As they walked, Blaise said lightly, 'Speaking of Harry, have you seen the notice about the extracurricular Defence group that's starting tonight? The one that Harry's supposedly taking?'

'Yes,' Draco answered shortly. He knew what Blaise was about to ask.

'Well, I was thinking of going ... Are you?'

'I don't know.'

Blaise raised his eyebrows at him. 'Don't you want to? It's open for everyone in fourth year and above. Also,' he added, suddenly looking thoughtful, 'if _you_ went, a lot of other Slytherins would probably go, too. You being the Slytherin prince and all...'

'I know.'

'Then?'

Draco shrugged. He did not want to express his feeling that she might not want him there, amidst all her friends. It was an irrational thought; after all, it was one of the few chances he would have of being with her. But he was still ashamed of how he had almost shouted at her the previous night for no real good reason and he did not think that she would welcome his presence.

Blaise did not prod him any further except to say, 'Just come with me this once. You might find that you like having Defence lessons with Harry.'

* * *

Upon arriving at the back of Hagrid's lone hut, Harry found her large friend in the middle of preparing his Care of Magical Creatures lesson for that afternoon's class. He greeted her cheerfully as he looked up from two large crates full of furry, black creatures with long snouts and spade-like paws that Harry recognised to be Nifflers. The crates, she noted, were kept a safe distance away from Hagrid's precious pumpkins.

'Fourth year class this afternoon,' said Hagrid happily, straightening up after he was certain of the little creatures' comfort.

'I see. Nifflers, huh?' Harry grinned as she approached them. Leaning down, she reached out a hand to pet one of the cuddly animals, only to snatch it away again when the Niffler spotted her watch and tried to bite it off. 'So, did you bury Leprechaun gold for them to dig up again?'

'Yep,' he replied. Walking to the large barrel of water that was kept near his back door, he quickly washed his hands. 'Jus' finished buryin' a couple hundred in front of the house.'

'What else are you teaching your students, apart from Nifflers?' asked Harry curiously, remembering that Hagrid was keen to impress his pupils with what he called interesting creatures (and Nifflers, though wonderfully cute and were impressive gold-diggers, they hardly matched up to _his_ standard of "interesting").

'Bin teaching them unicorns fer the pas' couple o' weeks.'

'No Hippogriffs this time?' asked Harry, grinning widely as she remembered the first time she had met Buckbeak.

'Ah, yeah ... Professor McGonagall had a word wi' me before the start o' term and she suggested I leave Hippogriffs till later – an' even then, to show 'em to students only from a distance. Said she didn' want a repeat o' ...' He smiled a little sadly at her. '... ye know ... wha' happened in yer firs' class with me.'

The smile had faded from Harry's face. With a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach, she remembered vividly that it had been all Draco Malfoy's fault for that disastrous first Care of Magical Creatures lesson; that he had vindictively tried to get Hagrid sacked afterwards; that Buckbeak had barely escaped execution thanks to him. It had been his entire fault...

'Hagrid ...' she said very quietly, keeping her gaze firmly locked on the crate of Nifflers. 'Do you ... still hate Malfoy for what he did back then?'

Hagrid looked very surprised at her unexpected question. 'Why'd ye ask?'

'If ... if he's ... not the person he was before ... if he's really – I dunno, reformed himself or something ... would you still hold it against him?'

There was silence for a minute.

'I can' say I like the Malfoy boy,' he finally answered at length. 'Bu' I can' say I hate him, either. If he's really better now ... well,' he shrugged, 'le's jus' say I don' think anyone's beyon' being reformed. Maybe 'cept for You-Know-Who –'

'So,' said Harry, meeting his eyes desperately, 'it's OK to be with him? I made the right choice by giving him a chance?'

'Wha' –?'

'I just can't make sense of Malfoy! He's so bloody confusing; I don't know what to think!'

'Harry.' Hagrid looked really alarmed now. 'Wha's bin goin' on?'

She paused, breathing heavily. Then, with a weary sigh, she made up her mind.

'I should've told you from the start ... Hagrid, have you been reading the _Prophet_ lately?'

'Yeh, I ...' Comprehension dawned in his beetle black eyes, which widened. 'This got anythin' ter do with tha' picture o' you and Malfoy –'

'Yes,' cut in Harry tersely as she began to pull off her left glove.

'Bin meanin' ter ask ye abou' that.'

'Yeah well, brace yourself. This might come as a little shock,' she said grimly and held up her hand, revealing the engagement ring that glittered beautifully in the morning sunlight.

* * *

Ron looked around with distaste at the large, spacious room that was lit with large burning torches that were hung around the stone walls, and was carpeted in what appeared to be soft, red velvet. It was nearly eight pm and he, Harry and Hermione were in one of the chambers off the Entrance Hall but, despite its splendour and good ventilation – as it had three huge windows that opened to the night sky overlooking the starlit lawn beyond – he was obviously unimpressed.

'I preferred the Room of Requirement,' he said grouchily, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'And I told you, Harry, it's still actually working! I tried to get in this morning and I could definitely open our old DA room. I wanted to see if I could open the one where Crabbe had set the fiendfyre, too, but there wasn't time and –'

'I know, Ron, I know. You've already told me,' interrupted Harry gently. She walked around the chamber – it was the one Professor McGonagall had suggested when Harry had approached her with her dilemma that afternoon at the end of Transfiguration– noting approximately how many duelling couples it could hold. A lot, she deduced, if any bothered to show up (she still doubted they would, though McGonagall had assured that she would put the new location of their meetings on all the school notices). Turning back to Ron, she went on, 'And I'm really glad the Room's still working; maybe we'll take a peek in there again someday. But for this, I told you earlier, it's not a good idea to let everyone in the school know about it.'

'But the old DA –'

'Had only about thirty members who were on the run from Umbridge in fifth year and, later, from Death Eaters that were trying to kill them. This new group isn't in need of that sort of protection, is it?'

'No, but – but ...'

Harry and Hermione both smiled at him. 'I know how you feel, Ron,' the latter said. 'But this room isn't too bad, either. Though I miss all those books the Room of Requirement had,' she added, looking wistfully around at the prominently bare walls. 'Not even a single bookshelf!'

Ron sat down cross-legged on the red velvet and was shortly joined by his friends. Leaning back on his hands, he looked at Harry and asked, 'So, how are you planning to do this?'

She fingered her wand. 'Exactly what McGonagall said: practise the defensive spells we've already been taught and ... well, pretty much what I did in the old DA.'

'I think she wants to make sure the students don't go rusty when it comes to self-defence, even though we don't have a proper teacher,' murmured Hermione thoughtfully. She had barely finished speaking when the wooden door of the chamber opened and a girl with long black hair poked her head in uncertainly.

'Oh, hello. Um, this is the place, right?'

The three Gryffindors quickly rose to their feet and Hermione gave Padma Patil a small smile. 'Yes. Come on in.'

The door opened a bit wider and Padma entered, followed by a stream of Ravenclaws. Harry, trying to hide her surprise, watched as one by one, the chamber filled with more students than she had anticipated. Among them, she could see the familiar faces of the old DA, such as that of Terry Boot, Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein, all of whom nodded and gave her a short wave when she caught their eyes, and Luna Lovegood, who stood off to a side, lost in her own dream world.

With a start, Harry also noticed a head of honey-blonde hair and, sure enough, it was Lisa Turpin – the girl who had encouraged Dennis to send his infamous picture to the Daily Prophet. Harry felt a growing sense of disgust in the pit of her stomach, which she tried to ignore as she swept her eyes across the other faces; there were plenty of Ravenclaws from lower years that she did not recognise. Some of them looked rather excited while others were regarding her with something akin to nervousness.

Harry was about to address them when the door opened again and, to her utter amazement and Ron's infinite shock, more people invited themselves into the room. They were led by a young boy Harry vaguely recognised as the Slytherin that had "saved" her from one of Seamus' Elemental Raptors several days ago.

They had never made a bet, but Harry could not help muttering to her red-haired sidekick, 'Pay up, Ron. The Slytherins came – more than one of them.'

He did not answer, but simply gawked at the haughty snakes that were taking their places on one side of the chamber, opposite the Ravenclaws. Compared to the other House, the Slytherins were considerably less in number, but the fact that any had turned up at all was incredible enough. Harry caught sight of the blonde girl that had been staring at her that morning standing beside another one she was sure was called Daphne Greengrass. A little behind them was a bored-looking Millicent Bulstrode and right next to her was – Harry blinked – Blaise Zabini, who, in turn, was talking to...

_Whoa_. If anything could have taken Harry's feelings of shock and disbelief to a whole other extreme, seeing her fiancé there in front of her was it.

Hermione, who was looking far too pleased than should be allowed, turned to Harry with a broad smile of satisfaction. 'Your pupils, Harry. Fire away.'

Exasperation at Hermione battled with her discomfiture. Trying to summon the confidence she had mastered during the old DA lessons (and honestly far too conscious of a certain someone's white-blond hair than she cared to be, and his sharp eyes that she knew were fixed on her), Harry cleared her throat and stepped forward, hoping dearly that she could do this without messing it up.

* * *

After several minutes into the Defence lesson, Draco finally saw exactly why the bunch of misfits that had called themselves Dumbledore's Army had become such a raging success in Hogwarts, and why the Headmistress had appointed Hariah Potter to tutor students in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was a natural and, despite her obvious initial discomfort at being faced with so many students, she was quick to gain self-assurance once she commenced the lesson, and he could tell that she was experienced as he observed how she handled teaching them all.

Draco also had to admire her use of tactics. She knew her spells well and she got them started from the very basics, and remained unfazed when many raised eyebrows and even disdainful looks were aimed at her when she announced that they would start with the simple Disarming Charm and, afterwards, Stunning.

'I need to know at what level all of you are,' she told the grumbling students, frowning. 'Considering that you're all from different years, it'll be even harder – which is why it's important to make sure that everyone here has mastered the basics at least. What'd you expect, that you can repel a Dementor before you can even properly Stun someone?'

At her words, the grousing faded away and some people even looked away from her, a little shamefaced. Unaffected, she ordered them to pair up and practise, a command that was immediately obeyed. Soon, the room was full of students shouting, '_Expelliarmus_!' at each other.

Draco, who admittedly had thought that Disarming and Stunning were below him at his current level, was forced to reconsider his opinion when he saw that Potter had done the right thing. Though there were students that could do the spells very well and had their partners' wands flying into the air, there also were several that were having trouble executing a Disarming Charm. Some, he saw, could not even get their partners' wands to so much as twitch.

It was towards these people that Potter and her two sidekicks – who apparently had learned much Defence under her tutelage – hurried to correct their techniques, and several minutes later, Draco could see a distinct improvement amongst them in general. However, he could not observe his fiancée for long because Blaise, who was partnering him, decided that being able to cast a perfectly good Disarming Spell was not going to prevent him from practising, and hit Draco with one without any prior warning. And, of course, Draco was not one who could ever resist fighting back.

He was in the middle of the Disarming match with Blaise – which had started to become childish and oddly hilarious – when he realised that Potter was standing several feet away, observing them expressionlessly. Having seen his spells, she obviously decided that he was good enough and did not need her help, for she did not bother to approach him. Instead, she turned away to help another duelling couple, who were doing far more sloppily than the two Slytherins.

As Draco saw her walk away, he suddenly wished that he had had the foresight to mess up his Disarming Charm on purpose, if only to have her come close and talk to him ... but then, feeling sickened, he pushed away the flimsy thought as he realised how pathetic that was.

Some thirty minutes later, Potter deemed them improved enough and moved on to Stunning; the ones that still had trouble with Disarming were advised to keep practising whenever they could. The same as last time, the Stunning Spell proved challenging to a considerable number of students and there was barely fifteen minutes left of the allocated time when, at last, nearly all of them finally seemed to have grasped it with the help of Potter, Weasley and Granger. By then, however, many people had begun to enjoy themselves – Draco included, it must be admitted – and in spite of the few minutes remaining, Potter found herself bombarded with eager pleas to teach a new spell before the session ended.

She looked amused at their enthusiasm and more than a little happy. 'We won't be able to finish another one tonight,' she warned them to which many responded with assurances of 'I don't care' and 'It's OK!'

Looking like she was biting back a smile, she said, 'Fine then. Let's try the Impediment Jinx. It's a useful spell because it immobilises your enemy for a few seconds, giving you time to escape. The incantation is _Impedimenta_. Try it.'

Draco blinked. That was one he had not used much before. Curious as to how he would do, he paired up with Blaise again. His friend was obviously very familiar with the jinx for he was able to make Draco freeze on the first try, but Draco had a little trouble mastering the spell. The most he could do was make Blaise jump a little bit.

'_Impedimenta_!' he tried again, but with the same result. Frustrated, he raised his wand once more, but Potter called out right then,

'OK, it's nine-thirty, people! Time's up for tonight.'

At once, disappointed groans erupted from all over the room. Most of them, Draco noted, issued from the Ravenclaws and not Slytherins. His housemates still seemed unwilling to express any emotion that might indicate that they had taken pleasure in anything presented by Hariah Potter. But he did not miss that, despite the lack of vocal expression, many of his fellow snakes had discreet looks on their faces that more than showed that they shared the Ravenclaws' sentiment. They had really enjoyed the Gryffindor's Defence lesson, simple thought it might have been.

A landmark moment in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'Same time, next week,' Potter was saying, grinning at them. 'Thanks for coming and good night.'

She, Weasley and Granger stood back, looking quite pleased with themselves, as the other students began to leave in small groups. A few of the Ravenclaws stopped to exchange a few words with the three Gryffindors, though none of the Slytherins did.

Draco hung back while the rest of his housemates brushed past him towards the exit. Blaise, who too had begun to walk ahead, realised that the blond was not following and looked back curiously to see his friend rooted to the spot, his uncertain eyes locked on the black-haired girl at the front of the room. An understanding smile crossed the brunet's face.

'Just go and talk to her,' he said quietly to Draco and promptly left the room, pausing only to give his Potion's partner a lazy wave.

By then, only a few stragglers were left, along with the Gryffindor trio who were conversing with a dirty-blonde haired Ravenclaw that Draco recognised as the Luna girl that had been one of Rita Skeeter's Animagus' witnesses. Draco hesitated, unwilling to approach Potter until she was alone, but looking at the small group, he realised that she would leave together with her precious sidekicks anyway. He considered just leaving, but he really wanted to clear some things up with her ... and he did not know how many chances of getting close to her he could get, either.

Reluctantly, he advanced on them, half-hoping that her annoying friends would leave. The thought had hardly crossed his mind when Granger abruptly looked up as he drew near and, after a moment of hesitation, grabbed Weasley by the arm and gently pulled him away from Potter. The red-head looked around at once and his eyes darkened furiously when they landed on Draco, but quite incredibly, he allowed himself to be led out of the room. However, Draco did not miss the highly concerned look he threw at the raven-haired witch just before he left, and the blond could not help feeling insulted. What, did the weasel think that he would harm his own fiancée?

Fighting the scowl off his face, he stepped closer to Potter, who was unaware of his presence as she was completely engrossed in her talk with Luna.

'Are you _sure_, Luna? Positive?'

'Yes,' Luna nodded her head fervently, her pale blue eyes disconcertingly huge. 'I accidentally overheard Professor McGonagall talking with Professor Flitwick on my way here tonight. I thought I saw a Wrackspurt hovering near Professor Flitwick's office door and I tried to catch it – they're so incredibly rare and valuable, you know; Daddy says a mountain of gold can't hope to equal their worth – and then I heard the Headmistress say the new teacher had finally written to her.'

'New teacher ... the new Defence teacher? Did she say who it was?!'

'No; only that she would be here very soon.'

'Really ...'

'And then Professor McGonagall began to leave and I had to run away, because I don't think she would've believed me about that little Wrackspurt if she'd caught me. A lot of people don't seem to believe in Wrackspurts, you see ... or even in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, though Daddy says – oh, hello!' Luna had finally spotted Draco.

Hariah Potter glanced around and visibly started upon seeing him. Draco met her gaze squarely, hoping she would at least hear him out.

'A word?'

She simply looked at him for a long, drawn-out moment. With a barely perceptible nod, she muttered, 'I'll see you later, Luna. And thank your father for me; _The Quibbler_ was brilliant.'

'Oh, Daddy was happy to help. And thanks for starting the DA again, Harry. I missed it so very terribly. Bye bye.' With a vague wave, Luna left.

Folding her arms across her chest in a rather guarded manner, Potter waited for him to speak. Her gaze was not hostile, but it was not friendly, either. She seemed rather ... wary of him.

Licking his dry lips, Draco decided to deal with the most urgent burdens on his mind. 'I owe you an apology,' he said quietly. 'Last night, in the Entrance Hall – I'm sorry I shouted at you. I was stressed and lost my temper, but I shouldn't have.'

'Are you going to tell me why you lost your temper?' she asked abruptly. 'I don't remember saying anything to make you angry.'

'It wasn't you, it was –' He stopped, not knowing how to tell her. He imagined trying to explain that he had lost it because he had been afraid that she was so busy that there would be no time for them to be together. It sounded weak, stupid and childish, even in his mind.

'What?' Potter asked. 'You just went berserk when I told Blaise that I was busy nearly every evening and ...' She looked shrewdly at him, something flickering in her deep green eyes. 'Does your little tantrum episode have anything to do with that?'

Draco was on the verge of saying no when it occurred to him that lying to her was about the worst thing he could do. Here he was, already stressed over the less-than-developed state of their relationship; a relationship that had barely begun. If he were to start lying now – even little ones like this – then the foundation that would be laid would only end in disaster.

Taking a steadying breath, he forced out the answer, 'Yes.'

Her eyebrows shot up. 'Care to elaborate on that?'

With an effort, he met her eyes. 'I ... thought you wouldn't have time for ... you said you were so busy and, well, what I mean is ... you and I still have a long way to go, but you ...' he trailed off, humiliated and unwilling to explain himself in full.

However, Potter had understood the gist. A faint flush lightly dusted her cheeks and she blinked rapidly, failing to mask her flustered feelings. 'Oh ... er ...'

Draco changed the subject hastily. 'I also should apologise for that picture of us in the _Prophet_. I know that people called you a lot of names because of it.'

'So, what else is new?' Potter snorted, though she did not look the least bit amused. 'Well, I don't see why you're apologising for that. It's not like you planted Dennis there with a camera, is it?'

'No, but I shouldn't have just ... just – kissed you like that out of the blue –' began Draco, uncomfortable but determined to get it all off his chest. The last part of what she had said sank in then, and he stopped dead. 'Dennis?'

Colour flooded the Gryffindor's cheeks in indication that she had not meant to say that in front of him. 'Never mind,' she said quickly, but Draco persisted.

'Is this Dennis the damn photographer who spied on us?' The name brought a memory to the front of his mind and he looked sharply at her. 'The same Dennis who took pictures of Skeeter's Animagus form for you a couple days ago?'

'Yes, but –'

'I'm going to kill him!' And he almost turned around and walked right out of the door to hunt down the damned little voyeur of a Gryffindor that had cost him and his fiancée so much. Potter, on the other hand, was not going to stand for it.

'No, you won't,' she snapped, unfolding her arms and frowning at him. 'I've already cleared everything up with Dennis. Yes, he took the photo, but he's not the only reason why it ended up on the newspapers.'

Draco had to crock a scornful eyebrow over his shoulder at that. 'No? Then who is the reason?'

Something like a sneer briefly flitted across her face as she answered sarcastically, 'That girl – Lisa Turpin – who so desperately wants to be chosen by your famous engagement ring as your perfect bride. Don't you remember, _Drakie_?'

He immediately recalled the Ravenclaw girl with the honey-blonde hair that had asked him such humiliating questions during that first Charms class of the term. His expression darkened at once and he turned back to Potter. 'Her?'

'Yes,' said Potter with a grimace; she still had not lost her sarcasm. 'According to her way of thinking, you cheated on your _actual _fiancée with me, the engagement-wrecker, and exposing us for the cheaters that we are was her good deed to the world. So really, if you want to hold anyone responsible, choose her.'

Draco was dearly wishing by then that he could wrap his fingers around that Lisa Turpin's neck, but Potter's words about them being exposed to the world had reminded him of another top priority topic he needed to discuss with her. Before he could, though, she beat him to it.

'By the way, I've been wondering, did you tell any of your housemates about the engagement?'

'What?' The blond was startled.

She gave a shrug, her features aloof. 'This morning, a Slytherin girl as good as told me that she knew I had your ring. You didn't tell all your snake friends without even warning me, did you?' Her voice was calm, but Draco could practically sense that her temper, short and high, was steadily rising. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he registered that there was at least one thing they had in common.

'No, I didn't ... They found out.'

Silence.

'My parents sent me a Howler after that picture appeared in the paper. It was quite loud.'

A strange expression, as if she was torn between laughing and horror, graced her face and she snorted. Draco found himself smiling very slightly at the comical sight.

'So, yes, all the Slytherins do know about it. Strangely though, they don't seem to have told a lot of people ... yet.'

'Maybe not, but nearly everyone suspects the truth now anyway,' said Potter impatiently. She held up her gloved hands. 'Why do you think I wear these?'

The Slytherin looked thoughtfully at the appendages she was waving under his nose. Then, slowly, he reached out and gently took up her left hand in his own. Potter turned to stone under his touch. Ignoring her reaction, he smoothly pulled the black glove off her hand, keeping a firm grip on it in case she thought of pulling away. Her skin – which he had never really touched before, thanks to the barrier provided by that glove – was wonderfully warm and, to his mild surprise, rather callused as if she had done a lot of hard, manual work. The diamond ring resting on her finger looked even more beautiful than when he had first seen it in the vault; and he knew, as corny as it sounded, that for him, the ring would look out of place anywhere except on Hariah Potter's ring finger.

As soon as he thought it, he frantically hoped that Potter was not a Legilimens.

'Malfoy?' she asked, sounding uncertain and not a little embarrassed.

Boldly, he let his fingers twine through hers. The gesture obviously increased her discomfort, but she did not stop him, which he took as a good sign.

'Yes, many people suspect,' he finally spoke, gazing at her. 'Which brings us to the question: do we tell everyone the truth?'

'Eh?'

'You know people will not keep quiet for long. They will start badgering us again and it's only a matter of time before my housemates start telling everyone what they heard from the Howler. We can't escape it...'

She sighed, looking rather resigned and upset. 'I know ... but it's just ...' Gathering her nerve, she looked up doggedly. 'You said you wanted to see _if_ this engagement will work out. There's no guarantee, right? Who's to say we will end up married or anything like that? We might as well as split up in the end. So, why bother confirming this arrangement to the public if we're going to part ways later on, anyway?'

Draco's eyes narrowed a little as he considered her choice of words. He understood what she meant, but the way she had said it had almost sounded like...

'Be honest with me. You agreed to this engagement, yes, but what do you really want the outcome to be?'

'What'd you mean?'

'Do you _want_ this to work out? Or are you actually hoping it would fail?'

Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open. She looked shocked, guilty and confused all at once. 'I – I don't ... I dunno ... I don't know what I want.' And he knew she was being completely truthful. 'What about you? What do _you_ want?' She sounded almost as if she did not want to know the answer to that question.

The truth, Draco reminded himself. He needed to be truthful with her.

'... Yes ... I want this. I want this to work. I want you.' It took a moment for him to fully comprehend exactly how he had phrased his reply, and it sent the blood rushing to his face.

Hariah Potter could not seem to know where to place her gaze. Blushing a shade that could have put the Weasley's famed hair to shame, she looked every which way, avoiding his eyes and positively radiating embarrassment. He cracked a little smile; she was oddly cute when she was flustered. Nor could he blame her reaction; her enemy-turned-ally-turned-fiancé just had as good as told her that he wanted to marry her – something that even an enchanted ring could not compare with.

'So, shall we tell everyone the truth?'

'... Fine.' Taking a steadying breath, she tried to meet his eyes again. 'But tell me something, seeing as you're completely serious about this: why did this ring choose me? What ... what were your wishes?'

Draco blinked, taken aback. He had never considered telling her that before; it felt too personal and he knew he would find the experience mortifying. Draco eyed the expectant look on her face, wondering how to answer. Could he really bring himself to tell her everything he had asked of the rings...?

Thankfully, Draco was spared the trouble of thinking up a reply as Potter suddenly snatched her hand back and stepped away from him. She was staring over his shoulder with startled eyes at something. Concerned, Draco whipped around at once. His mood went from good (albeit uncertain) to lemon-sour in the space of a millisecond.

Standing against the wall to the side of the wooden door was a tall girl who was watching them with cold, narrowed eyes. A girl who had apparently been there since the end of the Defence class. Her honey-blonde hair shone gold in the torch light. A wave of loathing washed over Draco when he recognised her.

When the two of them turned to face her, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stormed out of the chamber.

Draco gritted his teeth. 'Lisa Turpin, was it?'

'The one who persuaded Dennis to send the picture to the press, yes.' Potter's voice was harsh.

The idea came to him out of nowhere and he acted upon it on impulse. Grabbing her hand again, he pulled her with him out of the chamber.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm going to get a little revenge on Turpin and let the public know the truth; killing too birds with one stone,' snapped Draco, looking around the Entrance Hall. He spotted the Ravenclaw at the foot of the marble staircase. 'Oi, Lisa!'

She turned to face them haughtily as they approached her. As if, Draco thought in disgust, she was the symbol of purity and them the sinners. Masking his fury, he gave the girl a coldly sweet smile.

'Good evening, Lisa,' he said mock-politely. 'Potter here was just telling me how desperately you wanted to be chosen by my engagement ring and marry me.'

Lisa blinked, looking both surprised and rather confused.

'But you see,' Draco smirked cruelly at her, 'my bride-to-be is already chosen and we have decided it is time for people to know of it. So, why don't you do the honours and properly spread the news?' He held up Potter's left hand, letting the incredulous Ravenclaw girl have a good look at the diamond ring that rested on her finger. Still smirking, he drawled, 'Lisa, meet Hariah Potter, my _real_ fiancée.'

Then, revelling under the girl's shocked and horrified gaze, he grabbed Hariah Potter by the waist and pulled her to him, landing a possessive, bruising kiss on her surprised lips.

* * *

**A/N: I have a number of people to thank for inspiring the ending to this chapter. (The ending is hardly epic, but I had trouble finding a good way to the end this chappy, but the suggestions of these amazing people were uber helpful) Firstly, _Shinara101_ and _Goldenfightergirl,_ who wanted the truth about their engagement to be officially revealed. Secondly, _greatestwit_ and _FlyingOctOpuS_, who wanted Lisa Turpin to experience some form of punishment. And thirdly, my cuz _Euko-chan_, who ... er, just wanted any lame excuse for Draco to kiss Harry again (perverted brat). So, I kinda threw 'em all together and _voila_! I hope it worked xD**

**By the way ... SEXUAL INTERCOURSE!!! ................ Do I have your attention now? OK, cool. :D I just wanted to let you know that if you want a vague idea of what my femHarry looks like, you can find a link to it at the bottom of my profile. Go check it out!**

**BUT ... not before you leave a review, please. Reviews are like chocolate. And chocolate is my absolutely fav! Please give me some review-chocolate? :D **


	20. Chaos Ensue

**DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belongs to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.**

**WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there. **

******A/N: YOU CAN SKIP THIS PART IF YOU WANT**. But since I'm updating after almost a year, I feel like I owe you all an explanation. I know I said I'd stop updating to study for my A' levels. That was last June. Well, exams took a month, then I went on a 3 week vacation to Malaysia and then came down with the flu after I returned. Didn't write at all during that time. However, the real reason why it took me _this_ long is that afterwards, I completely lost inspiration. The very thought of writing sickened me. I just did. not. want. to. write. My writing mojo and motivation began to return somewhere near the end Dec 2010 and I began to write bits and pieces again. However, the full inspiration returned only around the end of Jan 2011, but by then, I had started University and my lecturers are merciless with assignments and projects even in the first semester. So, when I had the time to write, I lost my motivation. When my motivation finally returned, I lost the time. Thus, the long hiatus. I have been apologising on my profile and on my Formspring continously, and I apologise yet again. And I hope that you guys understand and can forgive me.

**DEDICATION:** Firstly, for _**Acara Whitefox**_, who wrote the lovely piece **"Unorthodox Matchmakers: Draco's Thoughts on Her"** - a fic inspired by this story, which is an insight to how Draco discovered his feelings for Harry through the canon years. It's a short, beautiful and absolutely brilliant fic; thanks so much, Acara! Forget this chapter, go read that now! :D You can find a **link** to it at the bottom of my profile.

Secondly, for **my mysterious Formspring Valentine**, as a very belated Valentine's Day gift. I'm late, but ... oh well ... I love you xD :P

And last but not least, for all **my wonderful readers** that have been waiting for this since forever. I'm very thankful for all your support and encouragement. Every review, every concrit, every message telling me to get off my ass and update - I read and appreciate them all. Thank you so much. =)

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY: CHAOS ENSUES**

Once the shock wore off, Harry completely understood why Malfoy had done what he had, she really did. Waving the engagement ring on her finger under Lisa Turpin's nose was the ultimate way to rub in the fact that Malfoy was an unavailable man – or more accurately, that Turpin could never have him for herself. It was a malicious approach to curing the Ravenclaw of her obstinate delusion that Draco Malfoy was cheating on his "actual fiancée" with Hariah engagement-wrecker Potter. Moreover, Turpin's resulting humiliation was a (somewhat) fine revenge for what she had done.

So, really, Harry perfectly understood Malfoy's impulsive plan of action. She just could not figure out why he had to _kiss_ her. Especially considering that Lisa Turpin had long since stormed away, howling.

It made even less sense why she was simply standing there, completely stupefied, giving him free reign.

Perhaps what made the least sense of all was that, when she felt a warm tongue languidly trace the length of her lower lip, she automatically parted her lips without thinking, thus allowing him to plunder her mouth. His tongue slid along hers in sensual swirls, coaxing her to respond to his touch.

Her heart immediately seemed to go out of control and she shivered. Suddenly jolted out of her stupor, Harry's numbed mind finally caught up with her situation. She tensed at once, turning stiff in his arms.

It took several moments for the Slytherin to sense that it was high time to back off. He broke away from her as abruptly as if he had been electrocuted.

An oppressive silence fell around them as Harry and Malfoy stared at each other, now standing some five feet apart in the empty Entrance Hall. Harry ignored the way her lips tingled as she tried to school her face to look blank and expressionless. Her heart was still hammering away in her chest and she had no idea how she was feeling, much less how she should react. The closest thing she could think of was the way she had felt the first time Malfoy had kissed her in front of the Quidditch changing rooms. Only, this time, it was a tad less shocking and a hundred times more awkward, considering where their tenuous relationship stood.

Malfoy, who was quite masterfully failing to mask his uncertainty, opened his mouth to speak, but three tongue-tied seconds later, he closed it again. Awkwardly, Harry cleared her throat.

'So ...' she muttered, glad that her voice was steady and emotionless. The words came to her out of nowhere: 'What was that again about "shouldn't kiss me out of the blue" you mentioned a little while ago?'

He blinked, looking a little taken aback. 'I – I was just making a point to Turpin!' he said rather defiantly.

'Who? Oh, you mean the girl that already left this place, what, _ten_ _minutes ago_?'

Harry was rather surprised at the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was having a hard time trying to make head or tail of what she was feeling with regards to Malfoy's unexpected kiss, yet here she was, pretending to be utterly calm about it _and_ sarcastic to boot.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was gaping at her, mouth open somewhat. Clearly he had not been expecting such a reaction from her.

'Exaggerate much, Potter?' he said at length. Then, probably in retaliation for her sarcasm, he coolly added with a raised eyebrow, 'Though, to be fair, I did it with your consent.'

_That_ completely threw her.

'What consent?' Harry demanded hotly.

'You allowed me to kiss you for _ten_ _minutes_,' he drawled. A smirk that was all too familiar quirked his lips as he looked at her, grey eyes dancing with sudden amusement. 'If a girl shows no resistance to being kissed within the first ten seconds, then it can be perceived as consent, wouldn't you agree?'

Harry was torn in two. On one hand, her temper was flaring; an old reflex to his irritating remarks and that bloody overdone smirk. But on the other hand, she was also rather fixated on his abrupt change of attitude. She paused, reflecting on all her interactions with Draco Malfoy for the past several weeks. He had been an aloof ice cube most of the time, especially before he had discovered her to be his fiancée. However, there were a handful of occasions when he had easily reverted back to his old personality, most notably that time he had "harassed" her outside the Headmistress' office.

There seemed to be two Draco Malfoys. One that was the withdrawn, aloof aristocrat, and the other that was the sneering, aggravating Slytherin. Which one of them was real? Or was it possibly just one person who simply showed different sides of himself to her?

Draco Malfoy, Harry mused, really was a confusing enigma. She vaguely wondered which side of him she preferred. His indifferent nature seemed appealing as it did not send her blood pressure skyrocketing every time, but then again, his mocking, infuriating side certainly did add a bit more colour to his persona.

'Cat got your tongue, Potter?' Malfoy asked lightly when she did not respond, jerking her back to the present. 'Or rather, you agree with what I said, don't you?'

'No, I don't,' Harry said at once, folding her arms across her chest.

'Really, so stubborn. Is it a Lion trait?' Malfoy looked at her with an infuriating leer as he lazily leaned again the newel post of the marble staircase

She scowled crossly at him. 'You just caught me off guard, is all. I would've never consented for you to – to ... um, do that.'

Her stammer only served to broaden his grin. Harry got the feeling that he was enjoying their exchange.

'You were caught off guard for _ten minutes_? Really, now.'

'Fine, I get it; I exaggerated about the ten minutes! But I did _not_ consent.' Harry had to fight not to lose control as her exasperation rose to new heights. _How_ was it that he could get a rise out of her so easily?

Malfoy's eyebrow had disappeared beneath his fringe. 'No? Then why did you kiss me back?'

Her jaw nearly hit the ground and her arms fell loosely to her sides. 'What? What ... no, I –!'

'You were enjoying it. I could feel you.' His enjoyment was evident in his tone.

Harry's hands had balled into fists. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. 'Keep that up, Malfoy, and I just might punch you into the next century,' she warned him in a growl.

At her words, his lips turned down slightly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a rather thoughtful look. 'Now _that's_ more like how I thought you would react.'

Harry blinked, nonplussed. 'What?'

'I was expecting you to hit me earlier,' he explained. Then his face broke into an amused grin. 'But instead you started the whole "ten minutes" nonsense.'

The Gryffindor could feel her face colouring. 'I – well, I still haven't ruled out hitting you,' she told him firmly, trying to sound dignified. Another thought popped into her head and she added haughtily, 'Though I certainly have ruled out apologising.'

That, if nothing else, completely snagged his attention. 'What do you mean?' he asked, straightening.

Now it was Harry's turn to do the drawling. 'Well, earlier tonight while you were belting out all those endless apologies, I figured that I should do my part and apologise for my mistakes as well. But I've changed my mind.'

Malfoy took no notice of her latter words. 'What were you going to apologise for?' he asked seriously.

Harry almost told him – about the time she had punched him and all the unfair accusations she had made – but stopped at the last moment. 'No longer matters now, does it? In my opinion, the way you "proved your point" tonight fairly cancels out what I was going to apologise for.'

The Slytherin looked at her intensely for a few seconds as if waiting for her to continue, but when she remained silent, he said, 'So you won't tell me ... But we are even, then?'

Harry paused, taken aback at his response. 'I ... suppose so.'

'And you still intend to work on this engagement with me?'

Harry was a little startled. In the blink of an eye, the Slytherin had suddenly gone back to being the other Draco Malfoy, the withdrawn sombre one who had apologised and discussed their situation with her in the DA chamber. How had that happened?

Harry swallowed uncertainly. 'Er ... Yes, I did say so tonight, didn't I?'

Malfoy looked pleased and not arrogantly so. It was very different from his trademark smirk, rather like the way he had smiled at her the night he had overheard her talking to the Grey Lady. Harry could not help thinking that his true smile, though slight, should appear on his face more frequently. It made him look more human and, quite honestly, it was rather nice to look at...

She blinked, realising that she was staring at the curve of his lips. And speaking of which...

'Eh, Malfoy, about figuring out this engagement ...' She squirmed uncomfortably. 'If you want this to work, then ... what you did tonight ... um ...' Her voice trailed off.

Malfoy realised what she was trying to say. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he said amusedly, 'Don't worry, Potter. The next time I kiss you, I'll be sure to warn you beforehand.'

The thought of a "next time" sent the blood rushing to her face and Harry scowled. 'Actually, I was going to suggest that you just don't do it at all,' she told him irately.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, smirking. 'What, can't a man kiss the woman he intends to marry?'

And the old cocksure Draco Malfoy was back, complete with a newfound alacrity to express romantic feelings for her with no hesitation whatsoever. Harry almost groaned, half-embarrassed at how straightforwardly he had spoken and half-exasperated at his change of attitude yet again.

'You're acting very different from earlier tonight,' she told him sourly, trying to ignore the blush that had flooded her cheeks. 'Can't you just settle on one personality?' The last part was spoken under her breath, but Malfoy heard her anyway.

He gazed steadily at her with inscrutable eyes, now expressionless once more. After a few seconds, 'You're the one who does that to me,' he muttered, almost to himself.

'Eh?' Harry said intelligently, but Malfoy waved her monosyllabic question away.

'We should get back to our common rooms; it's already curfew,' he said, glancing at his wristwatch. 'I'm glad we got to sort out some things.'

'I suppose ...' she said slowly, still eyeing him with curiosity.

'And by this time tomorrow, Turpin would have told everyone about us, so brace yourself.'

Malfoy looked gravely at her before letting his gaze drop to linger on her lips. His grey eyes glinted.

'Potter ...' He leaned forward deliberately, looking deadly serious '... may I kiss you goodnight?'

'_What_?' Harry leapt back automatically, eyes widening.

The blond straightened with a low snicker. 'You have always been so absurdly easy to tease,' he smirked and turned to head towards the dungeons.

Harry watched him go, becoming annoyed again. "Absurdly easy to tease"? What was he, referring to all the times he had mocked and insulted her in the past?

'Malfoy ...' she growled, glaring at his blond head.

He paused by the dungeon entrance to glance at her. 'Malfoy? How about you start calling me Draco ... Harry?'

And then he was gone, the darkness swallowing him whole and all that floated back was the disembodied sound of his fading footsteps.

* * *

When Draco entered the Slytherin common room that night, Blaise took one look at the contented expression on his face and returned to his homework, openly smirking. Draco noticed, but could not bring himself to care. Still reeling from the evening's events, he slowly made his way to the seventh year dormitory, unable to shake the goofy smile off his face.

He had accomplished what he had set out to do. He had apologised to his fiancée and been forgiven. Or at least, he thought he was. If Potter was on civil speaking terms with him again and was still in agreement with their engagement, then surely that meant she had let him off, right?

Without bothering to light the candelabras, Draco closed his eyes as he lay back on his bed and folded his arms under his head. He was pleased that they had managed to talk – genuinely _talk_ – about their situation; and it had, unbelievably, gone extremely well. There had been no angry words exchanged (with a negligible few), no accusations and no painful punches thrown. Such an incredible occurrence surely ranked amongst miracles.

And then the kiss ... It had been impulsive and reckless. He had never planned it. The only thought that had fuelled him was to humiliate that presumptuous, nosy Ravenclaw; no consideration had been given to the consequences of his actions. Without thinking, purely on a whim, he had just grabbed Potter and...

Draco grinned into the darkness. Before this night, he had not even allowed himself to hope that he would be allowed to kiss Hariah Potter again so soon after their first one (well, technically second, if you counted the incident in the library). Even the odds of being able to hold her had seemed less than zero. However, the evening had proved them all otherwise. Draco chuckled softly. He just might thank Lisa Turpin one day.

His thoughts ran over the aftermath of the kiss. Potter had been shaken and embarrassed, of that there was no doubt; yet, she had shown remarkable self-control – until he had provoked her with his comments, of course. Another smile curled his lips. He loved it that he could make her fire up like that with such passion. Draco had never seen Potter respond to any other person the way she did to him. It was a connection they had only with each other; an unacknowledged bond that they, as hot-headed arch-enemies, had begun to share since long ago, without ever having realised it. And it still was going strong; he could still make Potter react to him like no one else could.

Come to think of it, the same principle applied to _him_ as well. Draco recalled what Potter had said earlier: _Can't you just settle on one personality?_ Her words had been confusing before he had comprehended what she meant. It had come as a mild shock to realise that he _did_ act differently around Hariah Potter.

After the War and the prison trials, he had always been so careful to maintain an emotionless mask in company, determined not to get too close to anyone; to guard himself from the world around him. And yet, during many of his encounters with his fiancée after returning to Hogwarts, he had unwittingly settled back into his old personality without effort. The same thing had happened earlier that night. It felt just so easy, so _natural_ to tease and provoke her. His intuitive desire to make her react to him, to get any reaction at all, was so deeply-rooted that he never noticed when and how his old demeanour took over.

He had meant it when he told her that she was the only one who had such an effect on him. Not even Blaise, who was a closer and more intelligent friend than Crabbe and Goyle had been, could affect him like that.

The goofy grin was back on his face. With a contented sigh, Draco stretched out luxuriously on his bed. Nothing, not even the thought of Lisa Turpin spreading the "official announcement" around the school tomorrow, could distract him from his current bliss.

_Tap tap tap._

But a knock on his door might.

'Malfoy?'

Fighting off a scowl, Draco pulled himself up into a sitting position. 'What?' He growled at the doorway.

A familiar figure stood silhouetted against the dim light that shone beyond the dormitory door. Millicent Bulstrode took another step into the darkened room, peering at his indistinct profile.

'What's this daunting atmosphere, Malfoy?' Her sardonic voice came floating through the darkness. 'All the candles took flight while you were out? Or has the art of using a wand escaped you?'

She breathed a quiet incantation and the candelabras flared up instantaneously, painting the stone walls of the dormitory gold. Draco blinked rapidly, his eyes paining in the sudden light.

'What do you want, Millicent?' He grunted, dragging a hand over his eyes. 'I really have no wish for your sarcasm, hallowed though it certainly is, if that's why you're here –'

'Hark who's talking,' she retorted with a roll of her eyes. Moving to take a seat on Blaise' empty bed, she continued drily, 'Obviously, I have better things to do than intrude upon your lair of darkness and grace you with my superior sarcasm, but I want a word with you. Blaise mentioned you were here alone.'

Draco was a little surprised. He had known Millicent all seven years at Hogwarts, but they had never been close associates. Certainly not close enough to want a private word with each other, when there were plenty of other good friends around, such as Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis for Millicent.

Alive with curiosity, Draco swung his legs off the bed so that he was facing her directly. 'Fine, then. Go ahead.'

For the first time since entering the room, the aloof expression faded from Millicent's face. She dropped her eyes to somewhere around his shins, avoiding his avid gaze. Draco's interest immediately skyrocketed, until he noticed her wringing her hands and the distinct redness around her ears and cheeks. Seeing that almost made the blond do a volte face. Obviously, it was a serious matter for Millicent, but if it was something that made her act like _that_, then he was not sure he wanted to be enlightened.

Nevertheless, Draco asked guardedly, 'What is it you want to talk about?'

Millicent scowled at his shin, but it appeared to be more out of embarrassment than annoyance.

'Millicent!' Draco prompted her sharply, now more on alert than ever.

Finally, the brunette deigned to answer. Raising her head, she muttered lowly, barely veiling her awkwardness, 'Seamus Finnegan.'

* * *

What with her jumbled thoughts being dominated by the "talk" she had had with Draco Malfoy in the DA chamber and his latest crime (read: kiss), Harry had trouble falling asleep that night, the repercussion of which was shooting out of bed next morning with only fifteen minutes to spare before lessons began. She zoomed around the dormitory in a frenzy, hunting for her clothes and books (which had, of course, "disappeared" as they tend to do when one is running late) while a disapproving Hermione stood with her arms folded, declaring it was not her fault that Harry had refused to awaken even after ten minutes of shouting in her ear.

'... and after the tenth slap and you _still _wouldn't wake, I thought it would be better to let you sleep in,' continued the bushy-haired girl, completely unfazed by the fact that her frantic friend was not sparing her a speck of attention. She rolled her eyes when Harry nearly dove under Lavender's four poster in search of her Potions textbook. 'Whatever you're looking for, Harry, you do realise that _accio_ can save you a lot of time and trouble?'

The girl in question reappeared from under the bed, grinning sheepishly. 'Oh yeah, it completely escaped my mind.'

Hermione looked quizzically at Harry when she quickly Summoned her copy of _Advanced Potions_ (which emerged somewhere from the very depths of her trunk). 'Why were you in such a hurry to find _that_?'

Harry, now in the process of digging out her robes, spared her a confused glance. 'Because Potions start in less than ten minutes and I still haven't had breakfast?'

'Harry ... it's Saturday.'

She froze, one hand still buried in her trunk. 'Saturday?'

A few seconds of silence passed and then Hermione began to laugh softly. 'Of course. Believe me, if it was a school day, I would've surely done a Parvati and drowned you in a bucket of water to get you up.'

Harry frowned a little at the unwelcome memory, but then brightened, glad it was the weekend. She really needed a break from school and the people (or maybe just one person) in it.

Hermione eyed the happy look on her face with twinkling eyes. Then, clearly suppressing a smile, asked lightly, 'So, what happened with Malfoy last night? You don't usually oversleep.'

Harry's lips turned down faster than a flash of lightening. She looked sharply at her best friend, uncomfortably aware of the heat flooding her face. Hermione raised her eyebrows in reply, looking so innocent that a toddler would have seen right through it.

'Nothing much,' Harry muttered, looking away. Despite things concerning Draco Malfoy appeared to be slowly falling into place, she still had no desire to discuss it with her friends. It was embarrassing, not to mention just plain bizarre. Harry was also aware that there was a part of her that still could not seem to accept what was happening between her and Malfoy. Sometimes, she got the feeling that that part did not really want to, either.

Her best friend looked more than a little disappointed at her unsatisfactory answer. Seeing her open her mouth to ask, Harry brusquely interrupted, 'Nothing happened, all right, Hermione? Just leave it.'

No more words were exchanged on the subject while Harry, upon remembering that she had Quidditch practice at eleven, quickly began to dress. She felt a little guilty upon seeing the poorly veiled hurt on Hermione's face, but decided not to say anything. Though she had not meant to sound so harsh, Harry did wish that her friend would not keep pressing the matter of Draco Malfoy so much. More often than not, she found it mortifying and, on occasion, it was just simply irritating.

They were quiet as they descended the staircase together to the common room where an impatient Ron was waiting for them.

'What took you so long?' He complained as a way of morning greeting. 'Breakfast started ages ago.'

'Sorry,' Harry muttered. 'I overslept and Hermione couldn't wake me up.' She glanced at the brunette who did not meet her eyes.

Ron immediately noticed the slight tension between them. His eyes darted rapidly from one to the other and he asked uncertainly, 'Did something happen?'

'Ooh, yes, Harry, do tell. _Did_ something happen last night?'

All three of them started at the unexpected voice. They looked around at the portrait hole where Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had clambered into the common room. Both of them were out of breath, as if they had come running, and were eyeing the Girl Who Lived with identical Cheshire cat grins.

Well, this obviously could not be good.

Harry was immediately on her guard. 'What do you mean?' She need not have asked though. Recalling what had happened the previous night, she could guess exactly what the two girls were referring to.

'Oh, just a little rumour that's been flying around the castle during breakfast,' Parvati answered breezily, advancing on Harry with the predatory eyes of a gossip-lover who had just been fed a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Harry automatically took a step back.

'_Rumour_ doesn't even cover it,' Lavender added. Leaning around her best friend, she flashed Harry a huge wink before looking at her gloved left hand very pointedly. 'So ... how's that injured hand of yours, Harry? Those darns cuts healed yet?'

Harry sighed inwardly. She had known this was coming. She had been mentally preparing for it from the moment she and Malfoy had agreed to go public (well, she had _tried_ to. His actions last night might have distracted her a little, admittedly). But all the same, that preparation had not made her look forward to this confrontation and it most certainly did not make her like it. And to think that Parvati and Lavender were only just the pointy tip of the gossipers-iceberg. Before the day was over, the whole of Hogwarts would ambush her, demanding answers concerning her engagement to the Malfoy heir.

Harry looked wearily at her two dorm-mates. There was no need to reply. The "rumour" they had heard was the truth and they both knew it.

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, were looking between the three of them with confusion mixed with dawning comprehension.

'What are you talking about?' demanded the red-head suspiciously, while Hermione said at the same time, 'What is this rumour you're talking about?'

None of them had the chance to answer for the portrait hole was suddenly almost blasted open ('What is with such violent behaviour?' shouted the Fat Lady indignantly. 'You do realise it's an offence to deface school property?') and Ginny Weasley came flying into the common room, bellowing at the top of her lungs,

'HARRY, _HARRY_, THEY KNOW ABOUT YOU AND MALFOY! THEY _KNOW_ –!'

She stopped dead upon seeing the girl in question being confronted by Parvati and Lavender, and looked between them, breathing hard.

'Oh ... guess you already knew that, huh?' she mumbled, looking a little sheepish.

Parvati looked back triumphantly at Harry. 'So, it's true.'

'Never said it wasn't,' was the curt reply.

Ron finally lost patience. 'OK, will somebody please explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?' he exploded. 'What is this about a rumour and Harry injuring her hand and – and Malfoy, what –?'

'Don't you know?' Parvati raised her eyebrows. 'Draco Malfoy officially announced the identity of his fiancée last night. Isn't that right, Harry?'

'And apparently, they shared quite a snog,' added Lavender, beginning to giggle. 'Or so Lisa Turpin's been telling the whole school this morning.'

There was pin-drop silence in the few seconds it took for the news to sink in. Then, Ron and Hermione turned to Harry in unison. 'That true?' asked the former, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Harry hesitated for a second, unwilling to confirm it. That part of her, the one that cringed away from the reality of her situation with her "fiancé", was nagging at her again. But she had made her decision the night before. There was no going back.

Looking Ron square in the eyes, she gave a short nod of acknowledgement.

'Bloody hell, you never mentioned that!' Ron gaped at her, eyes bulging.

Her other best friend, however, simply gave her a sad look. 'Harry ... you said nothing happened last night.' Her tone was low, yet the soft accusation was so heavy that even Parvati and Lavender, who were about to question Harry again, checked themselves.

Hermione's simple words sent Harry's mind reeling. She was rooted to the spot, suddenly torn with a guilty feeling she could in no way explain. She quickly turned to the brunette, but her friend had resolutely looked away from her.

'Hermione,' Harry began, not sure of what to say and even less sure of what exactly had just gone wrong. Something, she could not quite put her finger on it, but something had broken between them.

'Hermione ...'

Her words were useless. Avoiding her eyes, Hermione grabbed Ron by the hand and pulled him with her towards the portrait hole.

'Wait,' Harry began, but Hermione had left the common room. Ron gave Harry one last look of confusion before he, too, disappeared.

No one moved for a full minute afterwards, all of them staring in the direction of the Fat Lady. Then Lavender looked round at the frozen Harry and said to Parvati, utterly puzzled, 'What just happened?'

The girl shrugged, looking just as perplexed. 'No clue.'

Their eyes turned to Harry, who, after a second of hesitation, hurried towards the portrait hole as well.

'Wait, Harry, before you go,' Parvati said quickly, some of the previous eagerness returning to her voice, 'd'you think you could maybe ... show us your ring?'

The last thing Harry heard before the Fat Lady closed behind her was Ginny bellowing, 'You tactless _dolts_! Let's see how you like Bat Bogies up your nose!'

'No! Don't – _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGH_!'

* * *

Harry had forgotten.

In her haste to find her two friends, she had forgotten what it had been like the last time Hogwarts had received a spicy slice of news concerning her and Draco Malfoy. The horde of students that had crowded her, the pack of eager questions that had been thrown in her face, the imaginative presumptions they had come up with – all of it escaped her mind. She hurried along corridors, ran down stairs, searched floor after floor, but it was in vain. Ron and Hermione had completely vanished and she had no idea where they had disappeared to.

Harry was lucky in her pursuit, though, for most of the upper floors were deserted, since it was breakfast time. She did not run into anyone until she reached the first floor, where she dashed past three Hufflepuffs, who eagerly called out after her, but she ignored them. Thinking that perhaps she would find her friends in the Great Hall, she was about to make for the marble staircase when someone grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her sideways.

'Wha –?' Harry caught a glimpse of familiar dark eyes before she was unceremoniously pushed behind the nearest suit of armour. Her unexpected assaulter squeezed in beside her, shielding them from the corridor; and with good reason too, for in less than five seconds, Harry heard the sound of running feet and voices exclaiming,

'Which way did she go? Did you see –?'

'I think down here!'

'Damn, Potter's a fast one.'

Harry glimpsed the Hufflepuffs she had seen earlier run past her hiding place. It took a moment for comprehension to kick in: of course, they wanted to ask about her and Malfoy! With an inward groan, she cursed her stupidity. How could she have so easily forgotten the chaos that would follow her today? Without thinking, she had almost dived headlong into it. Thank Merlin she had been stopped before she reached the Great Hall.

They stood in silence for several seconds. Finally, when there was no sound of anyone else coming, the other person removed the hand Harry had not realised he had put over her mouth.

'That was a close call, wouldn't you agree?' Blaise said with a self-satisfied grin.

'Yeah,' Harry said with a breathless chuckle. 'Thanks. I'd forgotten how people here are so – so ...'

'Insufferably nosy?'

'Persistent is the word I was going for, but that works, too, yeah.'

Blaise chuckled. His breath was warm on her face and Harry abruptly realised they were both still squished in behind the suit of armour in not exactly the most innocent of positions. She hastily gave his shoulders a push.

'D'you mind? This is a little ... awkward.'

'Oh, my apologies. Was that a little too intimate for you?' Blaise asked in a mock-suggestive voice, but his eyes were dancing with mischief as he stepped away from her.

His teasing was not serious, but Harry blushed all the same. He had reminded her a little too much of the cocky, straightforward Draco Malfoy from the previous night and she had enough on her mind already without having to deal with that again so soon.

'Don't,' Harry muttered as she clambered out from behind the armour.

Blaise blinked in surprise, but then grinned. 'Oh, right. I should just leave that sort of behaviour to Draco.'

Harry glared at him and he laughed.

'What're you doing here anyway?' she asked, changing the subject.

'Waiting for you, actually,' Blaise replied, turning serious. 'This morning, Draco told me about last night's Lisa-Turpin-incident and what an uproar she would cause with her "news".'

Harry snorted. Considering her past experiences with Hogwarts' students, she doubted that "uproar" would quite cover it.

Ignoring her interruption, he continued matter-of-factly, 'We were talking about how we should handle it and Draco figured it would be best if he dealt with the mess before the students got to you.'

The Gryffindor was surprised. 'What? What'd you mean?'

The brunet shot her a wry smile. 'I mean that Draco waited until he was sure Turpin had blurted everything in the Great Hall and then marched in to deal with the pandemonium. He's in there right now, trying to make things clear to everyone. He reckoned that that way, the excitement would die down a little and people wouldn't literally run you over or something when you come up against them.'

To say that Harry was dumbstruck would be quite an understatement. Malfoy was dealing with the Hogwarts horde right _now_, to make things easier for _her_ sake? Wait, what? That was – that was...

'Yes, he can be sweetly thoughtful like that, if you didn't know already,' Blaise cracked, smirking.

'Shut up,' was the only comeback Harry could come out with as she struggled to hide how flustered she was. Merlin, was Draco Malfoy _actually_...? She shook her head slightly, still disbelieving and shaken.

But then, another thought struck her. 'Wait,' she said urgently, 'did you say he's dealing with all the students _alone_?'

'He's fine,' replied Blaise reassuringly, immediately catching onto what she was getting at. 'He can handle it.'

'But,' began Harry, thinking about how wild and positively _overwhelming_ the students could be. She could imagine it now, a helpless Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the Great Hall, unable to get a single word out while all of Hogwarts completely surrounded him, shouting his ears off with their enthusiastic questions, demands and assumptions. And his determined fangirls, with Lisa Turpin in the lead – what would _they_ do to him –?

'Harry,' her friend cut across her frantic thoughts, 'happy though I am to discover that you _do_ care for his well-being after all,' – Harry gave a start of shock at his unexpected remark – 'believe me when I say that I just left him and he's quite alive. He's a Malfoy; he knows how to silence people, even those as, er ... obnoxious and loud as the typical Hogwarts' gossiper.'

The young witch stared at him, not entirely convinced. 'Perhaps ... but maybe I should go down,' she muttered, frowning.

'Oh no, you don't,' Blaise snapped at once, throwing out a hand to hold her back.

'This is my responsibility as much as his,' Harry said firmly, trying to shake him off. 'Malfoy and I are both in this engagement, remember? It's only fair that I –'

'Harry,' her friend interrupted her exasperatedly, refusing to relinquish her. 'Draco's doing this for you, remember? You've already faced this on your own earlier when the _Prophet_ printed that picture of you two snogging; _you_ were the one to get the initial brunt of that. So, in terms of _fairness_, it should be Draco in that position this time around.'

'But –'

'Why do you think I'm here? Draco asked me to warn you off from going to the Hall this morning.'

'But –!'

'You don't have to be the hero every time, Hariah.'

Harry froze. _What?_

Blaise gave her a lopsided smile. 'It's not a bad thing, you know, to be the damsel in distress every once in a while. Why don't you just take it easy and let Draco be your hero this time?' His voice took on a teasingly provocative tone as he spoke the last sentence.

'Wha – _what_?' Harry began to splutter, face going red, but Blaise only laughed. Giving her arm a tug, he began to lead her up the corridor.

'Come on. While you're chewing it over, let's find a place to sit down. I have something to show you that might take your mind off things.'

* * *

What madness, honestly, had driven him to do this?

That was what Draco was thinking as he irritably looked around the packed Great Hall. His ears were ringing from the tumult of their raised voices as the students crowded around him, trying to get his attention. No one seemed to have realised that that was not doing them an ounce of good, for how was he to answer when he could not make out a single one of their jumbled questions (though, of course, he knew the chief point)? All around him were faces; excited ones, uncertain ones, incredulous ones, angry ones, even disappointed ones ... Only the tactful minority were still in their seats, watching the chaos intently.

As for the teachers – under different circumstances, Draco would have enjoyed their reactions. Most of them, like Professors Flitwick and Slughorn, were shell-shocked and open-mouthed, while quite a few looked torn between disapproval and amusement (Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher, was actually trying to scowl through her laughter, the weird woman). The others seemed at a loss; Professor Sprout got up and sat down twice, obviously unable to decide what to do. Beside her, Madam Pomfrey had buried her face in her hand, giving up on the situation entirely. The only exception was the Headmistress; her lips were so thin it looked white even from that distance and Draco knew it would not be long before she exploded...

Was all this what Potter had to face earlier, when the _Daily Prophet_ had dropped the first bomb? If so, he really did not envy her –

Wait. Hariah Potter. Of course. _She_ was the madness that had driven him to do this.

With a determined sigh, Draco squared his shoulders and took a step forward.

'Listen to me,' he began loudly, but his voice was lost in the mayhem. They were still screeching like a maddened pack of hyenas and Draco felt the last of his thinning patience evaporate.

'_Enough_!' he snapped, now fully scowling. 'Would all of you just ...! Let me speak – OI, I SAID _SHUT THE HELL UP_!'

That did the trick.

'Good,' he grunted to himself when, at long last, shocked, blessed _silence_ fell over the Hall.

At the high table, Professor McGonagall, who had risen to her feet to control the students, lowered her wand. She was watching him sternly, allowing him to have his chance.

'First of all,' he began loudly, looking keenly around the room. He spied his target, standing off to one side, looking both the superior messenger and the crestfallen fangirl; an odd combination. 'My thanks to you, Lisa, for that prompt announcement. You really did save me a lot of time.'

Lisa Turpin blinked and went a little slack-jawed. Draco swallowed a smirk.

'Secondly,' he turned back to the mob, 'yes, what she said is true. Hariah Potter is the one who received my ring. She's had it all this time; she is my betrothed and that's all you need to know. Anything else concerning this engagement is between us only, and has nothing to do with any of you. So, I'd appreciate it if all of you would leave my fiancée and me alone.'

Without waiting for his words to sink in, Draco turned and stalked away. The students behind him, still struggling to digest his abrupt declaration, seemed to part almost automatically, making way for him. He upped his speed, eager to leave as soon as possible. He had made his point with as few words as necessary and he was in no way inclined to speak to them any longer.

'Whoa, wait ... so ... you really _did_ snog her again last night ...?'

Draco almost missed a step at the unexpected inquiry, but then grew exasperated. He did not bother to dignify the stupid question with an answer as he stormed from the Great Hall.

_People nowadays_, he thought dryly, _really do need some serious help to sort out what is important and what's not._

_

* * *

_

'What did you want to show me?' asked Harry of Blaise when they had finally found some privacy in an empty classroom on the second floor.

'This,' he replied shortly, shutting the door before he walked over to where she had settled down on a chair. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a wrinkled copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry looked at the newspaper with unconcealed aversion, unwilling to discover whatever humiliation was awaiting her in its pages. Honestly, by now, she was completely and utterly sick of the _Prophet_.

The Slytherin seemed to realise what she was thinking.

'Don't worry, it's not about you,' he said bracingly, dropping the paper onto her desk as he sat down beside her. 'I just thought you'd like to know that the Ministry of Magic has got wind of the Rita Skeeter scandal and is now looking into the matter.'

The Gryffindor perked up at once. 'Really?' she asked eagerly, grabbing the paper and quickly smoothing it out.

While she glanced over the headlines (DAILY PROPHET _REPORTER ACCUSED OF ILLEGAL ANIMAGI TRANSFORMATION: MINISTRY UNDERTAKES INVESTIGATION_) and flipped the paper open, Blaise continued smugly, 'Yes, really. That little _G__emino _trick you and your friends pulled yesterday worked out well. Apparently, plenty of students, whose parents work in the Ministry, wrote to them about it, and of course, they can't take such a case lightly. They're already investigating.'

'Mm hmm,' Harry murmured, smiling widely as she scanned through the article, trying to find the section that would report what Rita Skeeter's sentence would be if – no, _when_ they found her guilty. What she found instead, though, was:

'Hang on ... _"no sign of Ms Skeeter when Ministry officials called at her residence in London to summon her for an immediate questioning"_...?' Harry slowly read aloud. She raised her eyebrows. 'What? She's disappeared?'

Blaise nodded. 'Right after _The Quibbler_ came out, it seems. They can't find her at all. I suppose they'll soon get in touch with her contacts and try to trace her.'

Harry frowned, beginning to grow angry. 'So, she's fled ...?'

'For the time being, I suppose,' Blaise said, not seeming very concerned. He eyed the look on Harry's face and his lips twitched. 'You're afraid she's going to go unpunished?'

'Well, yeah, no, I – I mean ... we all tried so hard to ... but if she's escaped, it just seems pointless ...'

The brunet chuckled lowly. 'Listen, Harry, there may be a ton of daft buffoons in the Ministry, but they're not all completely hopeless. In fact, after Shacklebolt became Minister, I think the lot are beginning to improve quite nicely.'

'Yeah, but ...'

'They've already arrested quite a number of the Death Eaters that escaped after the Battle.'

'I know...'

'So, I figure it's only a matter of time before they track down Skeeter as well.'

Harry lowered the _Prophet_, still uncertain. 'You think so? She's probably in her Animagus form. It'll be next to impossible to find her.'

'Ah, but she can't stay as a little bug forever, now, can she?' The other spoke up reasonably.

Immediately, Harry was reminded of Peter Pettigrew, who had lived twelve years of his life as a common garden rat. She bit her lip.

Blaise saw her unconvinced expression and straightened. In a more serious voice, he said encouragingly, 'It might prove hard for the Ministry, but I daresay it won't be impossible. And look on the bright side, Harry. The fact that she's gone into hiding is strong proof that she's guilty, isn't it? The evidence against her is building up; she won't have it easy when they catch her.'

Harry nodded slowly. 'I suppose ... But for the sake of argument, let's say they can't find her.'

'Then she'll have to live out her life as an outcast,' Blaise said breezily, leaning back in his chair and swinging his legs up onto a table. 'She might not be imprisoned, but living in hiding is not much better off, is it? And she won't be able to publish anymore of her ridiculous articles about you or anyone else. So, your objective's achieved anyway.'

His point of view made sense and Harry began to smile, now more at ease. 'I guess you're right ... Thanks a lot, Blaise. I feel much better.'

'I'm always right,' the Slytherin drawled with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes in amusement at his typical behaviour, Harry returned to the _Daily Prophet_. She idly flipped through the pages, looking through the newspaper with disinterest when, suddenly, an article printed in bold letters caught her eye. Harry leaned in closer, curious.

Blaise, who had taken to experimenting how far back he could balance his chair on its hind legs, asked lazily, having noticed her silence, 'Anything else of interest in there?'

'Hmm ... the Ministry is urging people to increase the defences around their homes,' Harry muttered thoughtfully, almost to herself.

'Are they?' Blaise said lightly, now beginning to rock his chair. 'But isn't that a daily reminder? They've been printing that in the papers ever since the Battle, what with all the Dark wizards that managed to escape.'

'Yeah ...' Harry said, still reading the article intently. 'But this doesn't look like a mere reminder. See, they've added a whole list of more spells we should perform. They're practically ordering wizards to take precautionary measures. _"Report peculiar occurrences or strange behaviour" ... "Avoid interaction with all strangers" ... "Do not leave the house at night" ... "Never travel alone"_ ...'

'Wait ...' Blaise dropped his chair back on four legs. He scooted closer to read over her shoulder. 'That _is_ a little forceful. Last time I read the reminder, it was just encouraging us to maintain shields around our homes...'

Harry pushed the paper towards the Slytherin. Leaning back in her seat, she folded her arms, her eyes filling with suspicion. 'Blaise ... do you think something's going on? Something to do with Dark wizards?'

'I don't know. Maybe,' he said distractedly. 'There are still some on the loose. Maybe the Ministry's tracked down more of them ...'

The girl said nothing in reply. It was just an article and it could mean nothing big, but for some reason, it bothered her.

* * *

Harry was apprehensive, but defiant when she went down for Quidditch practice later that morning, a few minutes before eleven. Though it would be easier to face her friends than the whole of Hogwarts, she was not looking forward to their reactions.

To her surprise, though, the sight that met her on the pitch was quite the contrary of what she had envisioned. Her Quidditch team were already waiting; they were utterly silent as she walked up to meet them. Harry looked round them quickly, remembering the awkward episode she had had with Ron and Hermione earlier. She was tremendously glad to see the Weasley amongst them; she had unconsciously feared that he would not turn up.

Ron gave her a short nod when their gazes met. His eyes told her they would talk properly later and Harry returned his gesture, acknowledging his nonverbal promise.

'So, Captain, what tactics will we be trying out today?'

Harry looked at Ginny, who grinned enthusiastically. She could not help but notice that, on either side of the youngest Weasley, Jimmy Peakes and Demelza Robins were both giving her a wide berth. In fact, most of the team members seemed to be avoiding looking at her.

_Oh, that explains it ..._ The captain felt her lips curl up, getting an idea as to what had happened. Ginny had probably treated them all to a threatening session, warning them to leave her alone. Harry also had a feeling that the Bat Bogey Hex had been much abused.

However, she was quite aware that, despite their obedient silence, the rest of the team were shooting furtive looks at her left hand. Strengthening her resolve, she made up her mind. It was time to get it all over with.

'Right, since you're all just dying to ask me,' Harry said wryly, pulling off her left glove with a flourish. She dangled her hand under their noses for good measure, growing mildly amused at the looks on their faces. Without giving them time to recover, she swung her leg over her Firebolt and prepared to open the small chest containing the four balls.

'Now that we've got that out of the way, shall we get going?' Harry shot them a glare, daring them to ask more questions. Ginny added to the warning with an overly exaggerated cough of her own.

There was a hurried scramble to mount their broomsticks. No one said anything about her ring.

Harry smiled, relieved and satisfied. 'Good. Let's start.'

* * *

Quidditch practice went well enough with much discussion and trying out of tactics and new strategies. Harry's mood was decidedly improved by the time they were finished; her teammates worked well together and she had no doubt that Gryffindor had high chances of winning their upcoming first game, regardless of who their opposing House might be.

Harry dismissed them with the usual reminder of when the next practice would be held. With quick goodbyes – and another round of discreet glances at her white gold ring – all of them dispersed with the exception of the two Weasleys. The black-haired girl turned to face them, smiling slightly.

'Thanks, Ginny.'

The Weasley in question looked quizzically at her, feigning ignorance. 'For what?'

'For whatever you did to my team before I came to the pitch.'

Ginny simply laughed in response, while her brother rolled his eyes as he swung his Cleansweep Eleven onto his shoulder.

'You wouldn't be saying that so casually if you had actually seen her in action,' he told Harry, his tone sardonic. 'I swear she's channelling Mum.'

'I'll take that as a compliment, brother mine,' the younger said, grinning wildly. 'So, shall we? I'm starving!' She darted ahead of them, leaving Harry and Ron to fall into step together and follow her.

They walked all the way to the Entrance Hall in silence, the former occasionally glancing at her best friend. The atmosphere was growing awkward again. Harry wondered how to breach the subject of Hermione; she still could not identify why the morning had turned out the way it had, but Ron proved unhelpful for he did not seem eager to discuss it right then.

The subject, however, was temporarily erased from Harry's thoughts upon hearing the muffled chattering of students issuing from the Great Hall. She abruptly stopped walking and, almost automatically, turned and marched off in the opposite direction.

'Harry?' Ron spoke for the first time since Ginny had left them. 'Where are you going?'

'To have lunch. I didn't get any breakfast and I'm starving.'

'Er, mate,' Ron said in the questioning tone of someone pointing out the obvious, 'the Great Hall is _that_ way...?'

The girl paused to shoot her friend a wry look. 'I'd really rather eat in peace than answer a million questions right now, so do forgive me if I choose the company of house elves over _them_.'

Ron's expression cleared and a rather sheepish smile crossed his face. He scratched his head. 'Oh, right, I get it ... I'll come with,' he added eagerly and made to follow her to the kitchens.

'It's OK,' Harry said, a little surprised. 'You don't have to.'

'No, really.'

'But what about Hermione?'

Ron's smile faded a little. 'Yeah, about that ... Harry, we need to –'

Harry did not find out what they _needed to_, for at that instant, several things happened. An almighty _CRACK_ rang from the Great Hall, much like that of a giant whip, followed by what seemed like miniature firework explosions and startled screams. That moment, the very same sounded from Ron's general vicinity and he was abruptly knocked off his feet by a bright, white flare that went off around him. Almost instantaneously, the flare disappeared, only to be replaced by a thick, swirling white mist that engulfed his fallen form.

'Ron? _Ron_? Are you all right?' Harry cried, eyes wide with shock and worry as she took a few shaky steps towards the mist.

_Mreow._

The girl stopped dead, her hands automatically tightening around her Firebolt. _Wait, what?_

For one, insane, ludicrous millisecond, she was assaulted with the disconcerting idea that some devilish magic had exchanged her best friend's humanity for something more ... feral. It might have something to do with the passing memory of a bushy-haired girl with a furred face and a tail growing out of her backside. But then, two things happened that promptly trashed that particular theory:

A mixture of human screams and some strange calls that were definitely _not _of human origin broke the short silence that had befallen the Great Hall. And outside, the swirling mist dissipated, revealing the source of the _mreow _and one very stunned Ron Weasley.

Harry stared at the scene her eyes beheld, jaw hanging open in surprise. There were five, small ... well, _cats_, she supposed, for that was the closest thing these creatures resembled. However, these were no ordinary cats, obviously, for their fur was so long that they appeared to be wearing thick, shaggy coats; coats that were not of a definite colour as it kept constantly changing, so fast that the eye could not follow and it simply ended up looking like a shimmering blur. Their tails and ears were abnormally long and fluffy and all of them were currently "attacking" the unmoving red-head, _mreow_-ing all the while.

'Ron?' Harry repeated, utterly perplexed.

He stared blankly at his cuddly assaulters as they playfully nipped and tugged at his robes before meeting the other Gryffindor's gaze. As one, they turned their heads to stare at the open doors of the Great Hall. The cacophony had gotten louder and they could both clearly hear the noises that were going _mreow_ and noises ... that didn't quite sound like _mreow_...

_Roar._

_Caw._

And even...

_Ribbit._

Their eyes met again and, without a hint of uncertainty, they voiced what the other was thinking,

'Seamus.'

* * *

Seamus Finnegan, Draco would think later, had impeccable timing.

The issue of Draco's engagement with Hariah Potter had already caused an upheaval of remarkable magnitude within the walls of Hogwarts, but then right afterwards, the eccentric Irishman had strolled into the Great Hall during the last few minutes of lunch and made the afore-mentioned upheaval positively gargantuan. No one could have said how he had done it.

Mouth hanging open in a manner that would have made every single one of his Malfoy ancestors roll in their graves with shame, Draco stared around the chaotic Great Hall with blatant disbelief. All the students were currently being assaulted by a horde of shimmering creatures. They were strange to look at, what with the multitude of colours that were incessantly flashing across their ... skin? Coat? Fur? Looking more carefully, he realised that there was a variety of them and, even more intriguingly, every House appeared to be plagued by one kind only.

The Gryffindors – from what he could see, as they were on the other side of the room – were struggling with the onslaught of a pack of furry, cat-like animals, while their neighbouring Hufflepuffs were desperately trying to avoid being pounced on by what appeared to be over-energized, miniature bears. Next to the Slytherins, the Ravenclaw table had gone amok; the students were screeching and flapping their hands to protect themselves from their assailants that happened to be peckish ... ravens? Crows? Random flock of birds? It was very hard to tell. And as for the Slytherins –

_RIBBIT._

Draco would deny ever having let loose a high-pitched scream of such volume and intensity so as to halt all activity in the Great Hall for a fleeting moment, but – as he later tried to recover his shattered self-respect – he would obstinately assure himself that having a blasted _frog_ jump on his _face_ and shove its slimy tongue right in his _eye_ more than justified a startled (and extremely manly, thank you very much) "yell" on Draco's part.

'Get it off!' The Slytherin screeched, tearing the _thing_ off his face and flinging it away with all his might. However, as he opened his eyes, he realised that his troubles had only just begun. Previously, flabbergasted by the commotion at all the other tables, he had completely missed what was going on at his own. Now he saw himself surrounded by a small bunch of _ribbit_-ing, tongue-lashing, shimmering frog-like creatures – and all of them were hopping straight at him.

'GET AWAY FROM ME!'

Draco leapt off the bench with the idea of literally running for the hills, only to crash into one of his housemates that had been running in the opposite direction. He automatically grabbed the person's arm to stop their fall, barely managing to keep on his own two feet as well.

'Waa –! Ah ... Thanks, Draco...'

'Millicent?'

Panting, they gazed at each other for a moment before looking around as one to assess the situation. The Slytherin table was overrun by frogs, though it was rapidly emptying as the small amphibians leapt away after their escaping quarry. Speaking of which, Draco and Millicent's personal tormentors were closing in on them as well. The frogs took two leaps for every step they took back.

'Stupid things!' snarled Millicent in frustration and whipped out her wand. '_Evanesco_!'

_Crack._

If there was one thing Draco knew about Vanishing spells, it was that they were meant to, well, _vanish_ things; not bloody multiply them. Where they had been five frogs after Millicent before, now there were ten.

'Genius,' he drawled, swiftly snatching his foot away before one of the frogs could wrap its tongue around it. 'You deserve an Order of Merlin, First Class for that display of utter brilliance.'

From the look the girl shot him, he knew that if the circumstances had been less demanding, she would have punched him at that point. Or something.

'At least I tried, Malfoy! I don't see _you_ –!'

'_Reducto_!'

_Crack._

'... you've got to be joking.' Draco stared in disbelief at his own multiplied horde of frogs that were incessantly hopping closer. Was there no stopping them? Instinctively, he raised his wand again, but right then, Millicent grabbed his wrist and pulled him with her into a run, directly at the frogs.

'What are you –?' Draco began hysterically, eyes widening as all their assaulters leapt up at them in unison. He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel their disgusting little feet clutch at his robes and body any second, but –

'_PROTEGO_!'

Miraculously, no frogs landed on him. Draco looked up in amazement. Millicent was leading him towards the open doors of the Great Hall – like all the remaining students – and their way was unbelievably clear. However, almost immediately, Draco heard their _ribbits_ from behind. They had managed to evade the frogs, but the creatures were hot on their heels.

Running for their lives from sparky-looking _frogs_ of all beings. Oh, the shame.

_Ugh, damn it._

'It seems defensive spells like shields work fine against these things,' Millicent panted as they ran.

'And offensive spells only make it worse,' Draco added, quite unnecessarily.

Millicent did not look back, but a part of his brain fancied it could hear her going, 'No. You think?' complete with unrivalled sarcasm and demeaning eye-roll.

They were only a few yards from the doors when Draco noticed who were standing to one side of them. Grinning like a maniacal idiot was Seamus Finnegan (of course), who was cuddling two cats in his arms and laughing at another one that was perched on his head in a real-life – and less extravagant – impersonation of that one Ravenclaw girl's infamous roaring-Lion-head hat. And right beside him, watching the Great Hall with infuriating amusement, was none other than Blaise Zabini, who appeared quite unaffected by the frogs that were leaping all over his robes, including the one that was dangling off his arm by its tongue.

The two of them exchanged a word and began to leave the Hall.

For just a fraction of a second, Millicent stopped. She had noticed the pair, too. Then, with unspoken agreement, the two Slytherins made a beeline for the troublemaking mastermind and his newbie sidekick.

'ZABINI!'

'FINNEGAN!'

Draco could hear a roaring in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands around Finnegan's throat and wring the solution to the frog-problem out of him. Leprechaun Boy was taking things too far.

At their yells, Finnegan and Zabini had stopped and were turning around. Draco sped up. He was almost there –

_Wait –_

From almost out of nowhere, someone else had jumped right into Draco's path. She had been trying to fend off a flock of the crow-raven-whatevers, but she froze at the sight of the charging Slytherin. For a split second, their eyes met. Next thing Draco knew, their bodies collided with enough force to knock the wind out of him and they were falling, falling, falling...

'AAAHH!' The girl cried out as they crashed through the doors and onto the Entrance Hall floor. Her agony was doubled by the fact that she was crushed underneath him; the only things that had broken her fall were his arms that had instinctively wrapped around her waist. Arms that felt completely flattened by that point.

'Merlin.' Draco grinded his teeth against the pain. It did not help that the girl was clutching at his shoulders so hard that her fingernails were cutting into him.

Suppressing a groan, he muttered to her. 'Are you all right?'

With a pained sigh, she finally opened her eyes and, looking properly at her for the first time, Draco found his vision filled with blue eyes and honey-blonde hair.

* * *

It was like a stampede, one that would have undoubtedly crushed the two unfortunate Gryffindors had Harry not yanked Ron to his feet and pulled him back against one of the walls of the Entrance Hall. The five, shaggy cats followed the Weasley with enthusiasm, still nipping at his heels and attempting to chew off his robes despite his distracted attempts to kick them away.

Harry and Ron gaped at the mass of yelling, jostling, panicking students that streamed out of the Great Hall, half of them taking off up the marble staircase while the rest tried to find shelter in the chambers leading off the Entrance Hall. Many even ran for the doors leading outside. Amongst them were the shimmering creatures, happily following the pupils without relent and still trying to "attack" them – though, by then, it was apparent that were not really _dangerous_, but rather ... disturbing and quite irritating. Being bowled over by biting, pouncing, peckish, keyed up cats, small bears, weird birds and even frogs was surely not the most pleasant of situations.

'Seamus really outdid himself this time, didn't he?' Ron muttered. 'Ugh, stop it,' he added, swinging his broomstick at the cats, which did not help in the slightest. Instead, it only exposed his inviting left wrist to the little critters, which did not hold back.

'Ow, they bit me! _Stupefy_!'

Harry, who had been speechlessly watching the teachers that had finally emerged from the Great Hall and were trying to set things right to no avail, was distracted by the consequence of Ron's Stunning Spell. Her mouth fell open.

'Ron ... weren't there five just a moment ago?'

'Wha – _Impedimenta_!'

And now there were twenty leaping and pouncing at the unfortunate red-head. Glowering, he dropped his wand hand.

'This is a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke, isn't it?' He growled, trying to dodge and swat simultaneously at the cats (not a good idea as it only resulted in him falling flat on his face). 'Double the number every time we use magic – that is such a Weasley twin trick.'

As he staggered to his feet (harder than it sounds, considering that a quarter of the cats had happily jumped on his back), Ron finally noticed what neither of them had realised at the beginning.

'Harry ...'

'What?' Harry grunted, throwing herself sideways to avoid a random Hufflepuff that was unsuccessfully attempting to outrun some forty or so excited bear-like animals. Professor Sprout came running after her, frantically trying to help without exacerbating the situation.

'Why aren't – ugh, _gerroff_ me, you brutes! – why aren't _you_ being attacked?'

'What?'

Harry came to a standstill and looked down. She blinked. _Huh_.

It was true. There weren't any small, shimmering animals pouncing around her. No bears, no birds, no frogs and definitely no cats.

She stared at Ron, who returned her perplexed look.

'I don't ...'

Before she could finish, an unfamiliar, feminine voice, raised in a yell louder than the surrounding pandemonium, sounded from the general direction of the Entrance Hall doors,

'WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?'

Harry turned, but could not pinpoint the source of the voice through the frenzied mob. However, she caught sight of tiny Professor Flitwick perched on one of the newel posts of the staircase, where he had been trying to find a solution to the chaos from his high vantage point. Panting, he looked towards the woman and, with a strenuous attempt at a smile, returned her shout,

'Ah, welcome to Hogwarts, my dear Professor Jones. I'm afraid we're having a rather ... rough time today.'

_Professor Jones?_

Harry's ears seemed to prick up with excitement at the rank and name. For a moment, the prank Seamus had played on the entire school was entirely wiped away from her mind as she made to run towards the doors, eager to discover who their new teacher was and why she had been delayed. The name rang a bell...

'Harry, watch out!'

Ron grabbed her around the waist, pulling her away towards the Great Hall to avoid three students, each chased by a pack of cats, that had almost run her over. Harry fell back against him, shaken.

'You OK, mate?'

'Yeah, yeah, I'm OK –'

'ZABINI!'

'FINNEGAN!'

Harry and Ron looked round at the doors of the Great Hall from where the two shouts had come from. Seamus and Blaise had just emerged, grinning; they stopped short upon hearing their names and turned to face back – only to leap away from the entrance with identical, startled yells.

Next moment, two entwined bodies almost flew through the doors – as if they had been launched by some giant sling – and crashed painfully onto the ground. Ron, who had yet to remove his arms from around Harry's waist, tightened his hold at once and both of them automatically leapt back, Ron half-pulling the latter along, to avoid the two students that came sliding along the small stretch of floor between them and finally stopped at their feet.

'Bloody hell, are they OK?' Ron exclaimed hoarsely.

Harry was about to kneel down beside them when she suddenly realised exactly who were lying at her feet. The white blond hair of the boy was incomparable and the girl...

Harry felt her eyes widen. Her arms fell loosely to her sides and the Firebolt slipped from between her numb fingers. Somewhere deep inside her, a strange, unpleasant explosion seemed to take place.

Draco Malfoy. And lying underneath him with her arms around his shoulders ... Lisa Turpin.

* * *

**A/N: More details on Seamus' insane prank next chapter! It's one of the craziest I've ever come up with and I want to do it justice! xD (And for the record, I'm not going to make this an overly angsty, cheesy, filled with heart-breaking drama and jealousy sort of fic. Just sayin', so that you don't get the wrong idea)  
**

**Not sure about when I can update next. I'll be writing little by little. Apparently mid-term break is coming up soon; I'll see if I can get the majority done by then :D**

**PS: **Be sure to check out _Acara Whitefox'_s **"Unorthodox Matchmakers: Draco's Thoughts on Her".** You won't regret it!

**Like always, feedback is most welcome :)**


End file.
